The Perfection of 02
by Maxwell-Yuy
Summary: Left behind from a mission, Duo learns the rest of the pilots are captured. As the only one who can save his friends he must battle an alterego that is consuming everything within him, while proving his worth, strength, and love... or lose himself trying.
1. How leathal can he be?

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it. Nor do I own the song Duo sings. It's written by Neutral Milk Hotel.

I haven't written in years. This is a beta testing, if you will. Some hints to the story: Duo will prove Heero wrong in every sense when it comes to his skill levels as a soldier: he is unstoppable. There will be lots of swordplay, some gunplay, and maybe some mech sequences.

The Perfection of 02

By: Maxwell-Yuy

He stood with one arm on the doorframe, a silhouette of perfection. Turning enough to allow the light outside to illuminate his profile, he paused. "Duo?" he asked. There was a claming undertone in his voice that kept the apprehension at bay; a soothing quality that only Heero could possess under such circumstances. With a kind of soft confidence, he replied, "hai?" It felt like Heero was waiting for something more. There was a long pause, and finally, Duo looked up to where his best friend stood in the doorway. With the presence of Duo's gaze upon him, Heero took a deep breath. "Su… suki desu."

Violet eyes closed, a small, peaceful smile overtook the weariness the last few weeks had caused. A lifetime of hardships that had once been present in the crease in his brow erased. A moment passed in which he appeared to be savoring the most beautiful taste in the world. Quietly, he breathed, "love you, too, Heero."

**Four Weeks Earlier**

"Why can't I go with you?!"

Quatre closed his eyes and rubbed his temples for the 6th time in the last hour. A headache of colossal proportions was heading his way, he knew, and there was little to be done to stop it. A mission in under 3 hours meant no drugs on any kind. There was a shift in the couch, and a presence in front of him. "Quatre, love, would you like some more tea?"

At this moment, Trowa was a god among men, and Quatre the luckiest person in the world to have someone so caring for a boyfriend. Steadying himself, he smiled up at his lover, "thank you, Trowa. Yes, I'd love some more tea." Tender moments such as these were rare in a safe house where Duo and Heero were fighting, and when they did occur, they ended abruptly with—

"HEERO! WHY CAN'T I GO?!"

"Duo, you know you're not qualified for this mission. Your hand-to-hand combat skills are lacking, and you couldn't work a sword to save your life. This is the _last_ time I am telling you this! You will be a detriment to the mission, not only for your sore lack of skill, but your concussion leaves you in no shape to carry out even the barest of tasks. GO TO BED AND SHUT UP, BAKA!"

Oh, no. There it was, the punch line to end all punch lines. He could feel it yet again, the slow shatter of Duo's heart, the breaking on the inside as he successfully fought to keep composure. Did Heero really need to be so harsh with him? Quatre stood up and entered the next room over, where Heero and Duo stood in a battle stance. Before Quatre could muster up the words to placate them, Duo did an unusual thing: he stepped down. Expression faltering for less than a second, he whispered, "you have no right, Heero, to judge my ability in hand-to-hand. And although I'm not a trained fencer like you and Quat and Trow…" His voice crept even lower as an emphasis, chin tilting downward until he was looking through his bangs, "I can use a sword."

Quatre didn't even feel Trowa beside him with the tea, he was too engrossed in watching the most broken, yet stubborn Duo he'd ever seen. And for all appearances, so was Trowa. "Heero," he continued, "I think going on this mission without all five of us is a mistake. That said… I'm going to bed. Good luck."

As the braided form retreated up the stairs towards the bedrooms, the remaining three stared, expressionless and silent. As the faint click of his door closing was sounded, Quatre turned a glare to Heero. "How could you?" he asked, "how could you ever say such things to him? He's saved your life countless--"

"That was luck." There was an edge in that voice, a venomous hint that made Quatre shudder. Trowa threw a disgusted look in his direction, but Heero steadfastly ignored it. "He's reckless and he's injured from our last assignment even though it was simple reconnaissance. We leave at 1400, and we're meeting Wu-Fei at the rendezvous point. End of discussion."

Casual guitar strums enveloped the living room. Slowly rocking back and forth, hands possessed with a motion of their own as they alternated between the chords E and C, Duo opened his mouth and allowed a low, soft tune to fill the house. "Oh comely, I will be with you when you lose your brain. Chasing the only… meaningful memory you thought you had left with some pretty, bright and bubbly terrible scene that was doing her thing on your chest. But Oh comely, it isn't as pretty as you'd like to guess in your memory, you're drunk on your awe to me, it doesn't mean anything at all."

Allowing a verse of slow rhythmic strums where usually there was none, he glanced out the window, into the emptiness of the countryside. The others were due back from their mission three days ago. Although reluctant to admit it, he was worried. Gently humming, hands still guiding themselves to chords his mind was unaware of, he continued, "Oh comely, all of your friends are all letting you blow. Bristling and ugly, bursting with fruits falling out from the holes of some pretty, bright and bubbly friend you could need to say comforting things in your ear. But oh comely, there isn't such one friend that you could find here standing next to me he's only my enemy, I'll crush him with everything I own…"

Closing his eyes and taking in the sound of his instrument, he breathed deeply. Where were his comrades? Relaxing, he felt something out of place. Carefully keeping the rhythm, he concentrated on his surroundings. A tingle in his spine. A new scent flowing in with curtains cascading down the open window. In a usually dormant environment, there was a fluttering of wings.

There, outside. An almost inaudible click. Inside. A presence. It was right there at 7:00, behind him, likely in the next room, coming towards the open door. He finished his strumming, and continued to hum. Five more steps. The tune changed keys. Four. A longer note, flat, as it should be. Three. The singing, "Do-do do do-do do doooooo…" Two. "we know who our enemies are…" One.

The knife was flying across faster than any brain could register movement in the room. A grunt of pain, and Duo took in the intruder. "Who do you work for?" he asked, a deadly hint in his voice. Terrified, the young man could say nothing. Placing down the guitar, Duo silently approached the man who was now pinned to the doorframe, a knife through his shoulder and stuck in the wall. A loud call from outside, and Sally Po stormed in. "What have you done to my man?!"

"Hn."

"Duo Maxwell, you will not go Heero Yuy on me!" At this, Duo raised an eyebrow.

"Why did you send in a stealth agent? We're still allies, are we not?"

If the doctor had been angry before, all traces of the emotion washed from her face. A small, sad smile played at her features. Two men were helping their fallen comrade off the doorframe and into a chair. "Duo… Heero and the others are captured. We just found out last night, and I didn't want to risk--"

"Where are they?"

"Duo--"

"Where, Sally?"

"We're not sure. Zechs has them."

That's it for the sneak peek. If this picks up any reviews, I'll continue. Trust me, I plan a lot of action in the chapters to come, and the chapters will, of course, be a lot longer…


	2. Playing with tigers

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it. Nor do I own the song Duo sings. This time around, it's by The Postal Service.

Wow. I'm really surprised this picked up reviews. Thanks to EVERYONE, you, in all honesty, inspired me to keep writing. I had ideas and ONE paragraph. I read reviews, and I started to write.

Some notes:

**shrl-tn****:** Thanks for that title catch. Keep a look out for that stuff, will ya? I'm dyslexic (really), so… I make mistakes. I know the switching of voice can be confusing, but I didn't want to break up the paragraphs into such small sections.

**Biene****:** Don't worry, I didn't forget Wu-Fei. In one of my brainstorms, he's actually an instrumental part of the story.

**Shaeric**** Draconis  and Keiran:** Yeah, Heero deserves his ass kicked, but he has his reasons…

**Trowa's**** Tenshi:** consider yourself "picked."  …whatever that means.

The Perfection of 02

By: Maxwell-Yuy

Lockdown. The whole facility was under lockdown after the capture of the gundam pilots, which meant no one could go in or out without express clearance. To Duo, "express clearance" simply meant, "don't get caught."

The leather scooter jacket proved useful after scaling a 20ft stone wall, only to find barbed wire at the top. But he was pissed. It's not too easy to repair ripped leather, now is it? But he'd made it inside the grounds, and that was what mattered. The compound was dead ahead, guards with dogs positioned at 2:00, 5:00, and 10:00. Minimal trees and shrubs left an expanse of 200 yards of open yard to cross. He smirked. He didn't have the stealth kills that enabled him to sneak up on even Heero, for no reason. Biding his time until the opportune moment, he took in his surroundings. The blueprints he'd hacked were right. Entry from the roof would provide the best cover. It was a shame, though. Normally, he'd just waltz in the front door and be assaulted right then and there.

Twenty minutes later, the dogs went wild, and the guards began madly gesturing to one another. Every last man was called to the opposite end of the compound, leaving Duo the opportunity to close in the distance between himself and the main building. A precise shot with a grappling hook and 39 seconds later, he was on the roof. Pulling up his gear, he smiled. This was too easy. In a crouch, he quickly crossed to the center of the roof, unscrewed the grate on the ventilation shaft, and slipped inside.

Very few people were inside the complex. It was a waste, really, to have so much space and employ it for frivolous causes. Behind the heavy wooden door in front of him lay his mission. Knocking on the door, he waited, prepared for anything.

Edmond opened the door with his eyes toward the ground, only to see the tip of a braid hanging and swaying above the carpet. His eyes followed it upward and saw a face, upside down and hanging from the air duct. Eyes met, and a fist met him, too. Stumbling backward, his head snapped up in time to see the figure was now standing in front of him, clad in black. When did the intruder make it from upside down to right side up? And what was with that grin? Immediately, he attacked with his knife.

Duo deftly moved out of the way, casually dodging all of Edmond's rapid slashes. Though fast, it was apparent by the look on his face that Edmond's movements required much concentration and effort. Duo wasn't even fazed. "You're the last guard?" he inquired, amusement in his voice. "Really, you think they'd find someone qualified."

Spinning backwards, he delivered a kick to the other's chest with such force that Edmond was sent flying back against a desk, sprawled on top and coughing up blood. Duo laughed. "I've been in fights with kids in street gangs who are more threatening than you! Either attack me, or let me through."

Eyes now wild, Edmond attacked with fury, with Duo all the while dodging the strikes as though he'd seen every move in slow-motion replay. Letting out an attack cry, the larger man threw himself at the gundam pilot, effectively lodging his knife in the wall, as Duo ducked and came up behind him, swiftly using one hand to twist his arm and pin him to the wall.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

A low chuckle escaped his lips as Duo turned to see Relena attempting her best death glare in his direction, hands on her hips and all. "Hey, Leena," Duo greeted and released his prisoner.

"What are you doing here, Duo? You know you're not welcome here."

"Where's Zechs, Relena?"

Indignant, the princess crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. "I don't know where he is! And why should I, he's one of the enemy."

Slowly, Duo started walking towards the girl, who was unaware of the other's movement. "Relena," he said in a low voice, "where's Zechs?"

"I told you I don't -- ahh!!"

Duo was now looming over Relena, who was on the floor with her wrists pinned behind her and a knife to her throat. Edmond jumped into a fight stance, and Duo shouted, "Move, and she's good as dead. Then, you're next!" The man seemed subdued. "Relena, you are going to tell me where I can find your brother. And then you're going to tell him that I am coming to get him. I know you know where he is. You like to make sure that he's alive and well, even though you hate what he stands for." He clenched the wrists tighter, and Relena screamed in pain as the bones in her hand began to grind into one another. "Tell me! Where is Zechs?!"

"I don't know," the girl cried, "I don't know! He cut off contact with me two weeks ago, I don't know where he went! Last I knew he was at a base somewhere outside of Positano! Please, let go!"

Releasing her with a shove, Duo glared down at the princess who was sprawled on the floor. "good girl, Relena."

It was dark. The kind of darkness that you feel even with your eyes closed. The kind of darkness that burned an image into your soul. Everyone was simply a disembodied voice.

"That had to be the most stupid thing you have ever done, Yuy."

There was a shifting sound. "Don't remain silent when I address you, it's dishonorable. You should own up to your mistakes like a man!"

"Wu-Fei, please…" It was Quatre, now. Forever the peacemaker.

"He disobeyed an order. The first time in his life he disobeys an order, and all of us end up here."

"All but Duo." Quatre added.

"If he'd been with us on this mission, like orders said, we wouldn't be here."

"Wu-Fei…" Trowa was finally taking his turn at speaking. "Perhaps we should save this for another time."  Although he stopped complaining, it didn't mean Wu-Fei had to stop thinking.

Air whipping his hair partially out of his braid, Duo drove with one arm resting out the window. He figured he might as well pose as a tourist while in Italy. Music blasting from his "rented" sports car, he sped down the narrow, windy mountain road. "I am a visitor here, I am not permanent…" he sang. "The only thing keeping me dry is… You seem so out of context, in this gaudy apartment complex." There, just off the beach was a carrier. "A stranger with your door key, explaining that I'm just visiting…" And his hotel, complete with a nearly private beach. Prefect base of operations and prefect view from the cliff, too. "I am finally seeing, why I was the one worth leaving." Being a skilled driver and also in a good mood, he pulled up the hand brake and did a 270 degree turn into a small parking space. Today was a day to show off; he could feel it in his bones. Or maybe that was the clear Amalfi air and the ambient pulse of the old electronic indie pop music resonating from his speakers.

Picking up his duffle, he walked under the canopy of roses that seem to have slowly wound themselves around an iron grating covering the small parking area. The air could not have smelled sweeter, unless perhaps he was here on a leisure trip with a dark haired… no. He wasn't going to be thinking of _him_ right now. Not when there was work to do, and the sand was so white and the sky so clear and the water such a crisp blue. He'd set up camp, steak out the carrier base, and work his way to finding out what happened to his friends, and where Zechs had them. 'What if they're dead,' he thought, 'and I'm too late?" No, he wasn't going to be thinking about that, either. If his friends were gone, he'd have felt it, right? In either case, he would avenge them and crush Zechs Marquis.

"Hello, Duo!"

The stealth pilot paused, and without turning around to face the voice, called, "Hello. Hilde?"

"That's me!"

Duo could feel the smile in the other's voice. But he could also feel that there was something more, something hidden behind a cheerful mask. If there was anything Duo knew well, it was cheerful masks. "Can I help you with anything, Hilde?"

"You could walk behind the hotel and throw yourself off the cliff. I hear it's a nasty fall." She chuckled, and raised an eyebrow, "staying at the Onda Verde?"

"I'd planned on it."

"Vacation, or business trip?"

"Business."

"Well," she said and the hands Duo was sure she held behind her back could be heard moving a little, "I'm sure you can take up this business with me. Can you turn around? I've never seen your violet eyes in such good lighting before."

Turning around, Duo looked at Hilde, whose hands _were_ behind her back. "Oh, Duo, I've always loved your eyes. But you know, when I found out you had feelings for another, not even your pretty eyes could keep me on your side."

"How'd you find me?"

"Oh, I paid a visit to Relena. Poor girl was pretty distraught, what with the tiger, and you, and then me. Tell me, how _did_ you manage a tiger? Relena couldn't believe that was you."

Duo chuckled, a briefly smug look crossing his face. "As inept as her security is… after all, YOU got past them…" Hilde scowled, "I knew that they're at least trained to recognize a diversion when they see it. So, more for fun than anything else, I helped a tiger escape from the city zoo. It was all over the news, how that tiger escaped the impossible pen. And when a day later it shows up 20 miles away at the Royal Palace? Well, that's not a diversion. That's bad luck."

Hilde, though impressed by the story, didn't seem to buy that Duo's version was the whole truth. "How'd you manage to get it over a 20 foot stone wall with barbed wire on top, at the exact location you wanted it, at the exact time you needed it?"

"That, Hilde, is between me and the tiger." He paused, "I'd prefer not to kill you, Hilde. You can still be my friend."

The girl's face darkened. "I don't want to just be friends."

Hilde revealed a sub machine gun from behind her back, and no sooner than it has appeared, fired at Duo. Diving out of the line of fire, duffle on his back, Duo barely noticed the roses being torn away, or the cars systematically being destroyed. Taking off at top speed over broken glass and ripped thorns, Duo jumped down into a yard below. The whole town was on the side of the mountain, and everything was tiered. The grass around him was exploding from the force of Hilde's poorly aimed shots. That girl was a pilot, not a sharpshooter.

Standing on the ledge from which Duo had jumped, Hilde continued to fire into the lawn below. As Duo rounded the house, Hilde jumped after him, re-loading the machine gun as she ran. She saw Duo on another street, a level below her, dropping and rolling under a small pick up truck. Hilde descended to the cobblestone street, now only slightly up the inclined road from Duo. "You're going to die, Duo!" She opens fire once more, but this time, the fire was returned. Over the screaming bullets she yelled, "Find yourself a gun, Duo?"

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a hand grenade. Biting off the pin, she threw it, and Duo watched it roll towards him, right under the truck.

Alrighty. I'm headin out of town for the weekend, but I'll try to bring a laptop and write, so I can update when I return (I, uh… have no internet where I'm going). YES, the rest of the pilots will be in the story. Don't worry. Reviews, suggestions, flames all good. If you'd like something in the story, and it fits into my vision, I may just add it in.

Sorry the chapter's still a bit short, but I was rushed to get it up before I skipped town.


	3. A little big secret

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

Thanks for the reviews. I wrote most of this on my ancient laptop at my grandma's over the weekend. It took 4 minutes to boot up. She thought I was doing homework. Heh.

The Perfection of 02

By: Maxwell-Yuy

A loud explosion, a bit too close for comfort, sent Wu-Fei into an even higher state of awareness than before… if that was possible. "Damn you, Yuy!" he muttered to himself, picking up his com unit. Flipping the switch, he commanded,"04, status? 04?"

"05, 03 and 04 are downed and captured."

That was Heero's unmistakable monotone. Wu-Fei felt anger boiling within him. Had this mission allotted the use of the Gundams, he and his friends would have stood their ground without much trouble. The trap had only dawned on them once they were too far into the base for escape to be an option. Though imminent, capture didn't appear to be much of an option to the stubborn Chinese youth. "01, status?"

"Cornered."

Placing his com back in his pocket, Wu-Fei snorted. Had Maxwell been there, none of this would have happened. Or, at least, he could hear Duo's voice in his head, explaining Yuy's situation in a classic Maxwell style. "Stuck like 20th century trench warfare," he would exclaim, "call the League of Nations!" Even with bullets ripping through the air in his direction as he kept cover behind a consol, he couldn't help but smile at the antics of his missing comrade. Maxwell really did have the strangest phrases.

It was only when he felt the clip in his shoulder that he knew the fight was over. Already bleeding to death and not about to surrender, he came to terms with the fact that once he passed out, it was up to OZ whether or not he lived. The barrage of fire was less frequent now, and he could hear shouting. Somewhere in the mix, he thought he heard an order to take the pilot alive, but the world became darkness before he could be certain. The image of a braided boy smiling at him was the last thing he saw.

"So what's the plan?"

"We're going to use the ones we have to lure the other into our custody."

"Are we moving them?"

"Prisoner transfer is already under way. Treize requested we hold them at the Madrid base."

"Zechs, we don't have a Madrid base. We have a residential mansion."

"I know."

There was an awkward pause in conversation as the two held their phones in silent thought. "Enough with the formalities, Noin. How are you?"

Cell phone to her ear, the young woman ran her free hand through her short hair. "Tired, and I miss you. Une has me working day and night, and I think she keeps us on separate assignments on purpose."

In his private shuttle, Zechs could only half smile at the comment. En route to Madrid, he had much to prepare for his guests of honor. "I'll arrange for you to come to Spain after the completion of your current mission. We can catch up."

"Zechs," the other sighed, "why Madrid? Why would Treize choose there?"

"Because," he replied, twirling a pen between his fingers, "when the scientists were in our custody, G said something that intrigued Treize to no end. He said--"

The new room had vid screens everywhere. It didn't make sense. If Heero studied the images, he could learn the layout of the mansion and escape. But no more than a minute after being secured in the room and chained around a rectangular column so that no pilot could see any of his comrades, the screens went blank.

"You want to know what they're for, don't you?"

Heero looked up to see Treize Kushrenada standing above him. He and the OZ leader had never been in such a close proximity, and he could feel the other's wealth and power radiating from his stance. Though he didn't show it, the Japanese boy was curious as to why the vid screens were in place. It was almost as though every security camera had a direct feed into the room. He knew there was a tactical reason for allowing the pilots such exposure to the layout of their prison, but he didn't quite know what that reason was.

"When your friend comes looking for you, these vid screens will ensure that you'll witness his suffering. You will see just how much pain he'll put himself through and continue to fight in the face of, just for you." None of the pilots showed any signs of having an opinion, so Treize continued. "I want you to witness his transformation. Because by the time he gets close to the four of you, he won't be the same pilot you remember." The man paused for a moment, and made his way back to the door. "I hope you find your accommodations suitable. I do have great respect for you."

Although he was scared for his friend, Quatre knew Duo was tough. After all, he was a Gundam pilot, and as reckless as he could be, he had gone through intense training. Whatever Treize had planned for him, Duo could handle. After all, the boy was from… _that_ place. He couldn't even admit to it in his thoughts, let alone aloud. How anyone so beautiful and so cheerful could survive… _that_… was beyond him. He'd been uneasy with Duo ever since he found out. How could things go back to normal after learning such a thing? It wasn't long ago, maybe two weeks at most before the four of them had gotten caught, that they'd found out.

"You'll never stop him." Quatre whispered, though his mind began to wander…

He stormed in looking for the culprit. As soon as he found Duo, he was as good as dead. He'd ordered that rose water from home, from a special store. He went through great lengths to have the package delivered by his own men to the safe house. He'd missed the aroma and taste of the markets of L4, and had been looking forward to this delivery for months. He was going to make Persian baklava and paludeh. How Duo managed to ruin his vision in a mere few hours was beyond his level of comprehension.

The bottle had been there, where he'd left it on the table. The next time he walked into the room, it was gone. He knew immediately that Duo was at fault. He'd told him days before that he was getting an important package, and it was just within the limits of the boy's character to steal it in order to get on Quatre's nerves. After all, didn't he desecrate Wu-Fei's Gundam months ago, after the Chinese man admitted that it was special to him?

He found his suspect sitting in the TV room, watching a documentary on "The Wars of Old." Duo had a thing for watching old footage of the "World Wars" of the past, which seemed to overlook the fact that the entire world was not, indeed, at war. What he saw in those shows was beyond Quatre's comprehension. Snatching away the remote just as a narrator began talking about Great Siege of Malta, Quatre gave Duo his best glare as he turned off the television.

Making to yell at Quatre for being so uncharacteristically rude, Duo caught the look on his friend's face and decided that something was terribly amiss, and he should be more concerned than angry. "Quat," he began slowly, "are you all right?"

The soft concern in his violet eyes did nothing to make Quatre think twice about putting Duo in his place for what he'd done. This was something very dear to him that the other had taken away, and he'd let Duo know. He began calmly, assuming that he would admit he had taken it once he asked. "Duo, where is my rose water?"

The boy looked taken aback and confused. The last thing he expected Quatre to ask him about was the rose water. He wouldn't go near it, due to the other's protectiveness. "Quat, I dunno what you're talking about--"

"Don't lie to me, Duo." At that point, Duo's face turned pale as a ghost. Quatre was accusing him of lying. Him, Duo Maxwell. The boy who NEVER lies. He was speechless as Quatre barreled on, "You eat everything! It doesn't matter who it belongs to, or even if it tastes good. What's wrong with you, do you want to gain 200 pounds and become a diabetic? I won't stand for that! Have some self-control. You couldn't go an hour without shoving some food in your mouth."

Duo remained silent, and the blonde became more annoyed. "You always mess up everything for everyone else, don't you? Do you think it's funny?"

Blinking a few times to make sure he was seeing things right, Duo decided that he wasn't dreaming, and Quatre really was accusing him of something he didn't do. Worse, he was accusing him of lying. "Right! I'd forgotten all that!" Duo had for once completely lost his cool. But Quatre was too angry to notice that something was terribly wrong. "I haven't been doing things right in the last few weeks. I botched all my missions, I painted Nataku pink again, hell, why not go the extra mile and say I slept with the enemy?!"

"You did what?!"

"It's call SARCASM! I'm being sarcastic, or did you forget that I tend to do that?" As the realization sank in that Quatre had actually believed him for a second, Duo's anger simmered down to plain hurt. "Yeah, whatever… Think what you like. Sure. I'm a total fuck up, if it makes you feel better. Yell at me some more for it, but yell at me while I'm gone. I'm outta here."

As the longhaired boy left the room, Quatre was in shock. Even if it only showed in his eyes for a second, Duo looked so shaken, so hurt, that Quatre felt he had to make up for what he'd done. But it wouldn't end like that. Duo had knowingly ruined something he had been looking forward to for weeks, and he would have to be the one making it up to Quatre; not the other way around. Worst of all, he had denied the whole thing, which meant that his code of honor meant nothing to him. Just thinking about his friend disregarding the code he claimed to live by was enough to fuel his anger again.

A voice came from behind that couldn't have startled the fuming boy more than had Duo employed his stealth skills and snuck up on he and Trowa as they were making out on the couch. "You should know better," Quatre jumped and turned around, "than to accuse him of such things, Quatre."

Blinded by his unusual anger, the boy half shouted in desperation, "Well, what else could have happened to it?!"

Trowa wrapped his arms around the smaller boy in an effort to calm him. In a hushed voice, he continued, "Perhaps you misplaced it? Perhaps your boyfriend brought it outside to comment on how nice it smells, and after not finding you, left it on the porch."  With that, Trowa turned Quatre in his arms to reveal the bottle where a moment ago Trowa had placed it on the countertop.

"Oh, no."

****

Making a ruckus in the kitchen, Quatre kept himself and his guilty conscience busy. He could see Duo typing on his laptop at the dining room table, though unlike Heero, he knew he wouldn't be using it for long. The kitchen had an open view of the dining room through a square opening in the wall acting as a sort of window. Each time he'd look up at the boy, Duo had an intense look on his face, as though he were concentrating. A small part of his mind told him Duo wasn't concentrating that hard… he was ignoring him.

"Hey, Duo," he sweetly called and looked out toward the boy, "want a snack before I make dinner?"

"No thanks, Quatre."

Duo hadn't even looked away from the monitor. He didn't blink, or show any sign of recognizing Quatre, other than to respond in a monotone. Quatre tried again. "Well, you must be starving, you haven't eaten all day. How about an early dinner?"

"I'm not hungry, Quatre."

Again, there was that monotone from the boy with such life in his voice. Quatre tried to brush it off. "Well, how about dinner at 5:00?"

"Whatever you want, Quatre."

Quatre smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You should be hungry by then. I'll start cooking."

An hour later, the safe house smelled of food and Quatre called Trowa to set the table; Duo had long since abandoned his position there. Dinner was, needless to say, a very uncomfortable experience. Heero, for once, appeared first. Wu-Fei followed suit not long after, and Duo appeared late enough for everyone to have already started eating. As Duo sat between Wu-Fei and Heero, Quatre stood from his position across the table, smiling, and cheerfully saying, "let me get that for you" as he took Duo's plate and dished out a serving of his native Arabic Bukhari Rice for the long haired pilot.

Duo's face held no emotion as he took his plate back from Quatre and picked up his fork. It wasn't long at all before Quatre realized no one had spoken. He tried, in vain, to keep some sort of normalcy at the table, filling the void where usually Duo would talk. "Is the Tabbouleh salad good?" He began, "it didn't turn out the way I wanted…"

Knowing that none of the other pilots would respond, Trowa tried to help his boyfriend. "It's fine, love."

Satisfied, Quatre continued, "So, Heero, what did you do today?"

Pausing with his eating, Heero looked up at the boy across the table with one of his blank expressions that meant, "don't ask." His silence had a presence of its own, and soon he looked back down at his food and ate once again. This didn't please the blonde at all, and Quatre tried playing his cards with the Chinese boy, also across the table.

"Okay. Um, what about you, Wu-Fei?"

Wu-Fei snuck a glance at Duo, concern written on his face. Absently, he responded, "Some very intense practice with my katana." Slowly, he looked back to his plate, and pushed some food around before forking it and eating it.

Now that he'd gotten a response for his efforts, Quatre's hope that dinner could be salvaged was given flight. "Is that how you got that cut?" He inquired.

Automatically, Wu-Fei responded, "Yes," and Quatre's hope of starting a conversation with Wu-Fei crashed and burned with the single syllable response. For a while, no one spoke. Quatre noted that everyone was busy eating, and so he figured the lack of conversation was due to a communal with the food. But upon observation, he saw that Duo still had the same food on his plate that had first been dished out for him. All that the long haired pilot had done was prod at it with his fork, and after a few more minutes of this mechanical behavior, Quatre couldn't take it anymore.

"Duo, you haven't eaten a thing."

Softly, the boy replied, "I told you before, Quatre, I'm not hungry."

The blonde would not be deterred so easily. "But surly you must be starving…"

"Stop it, Quatre."

For a moment, the soft conviction in Duo's voice stopped his friend in mid thought. Why was he acting this way? He was going to find out, whether Duo liked it or not. He cared about him, and didn't want to see his friend like this. "But Duo, you haven't eaten all--"

"Quatre. Stop it. Stop tryin' ta make ev'rythin' okay!" Duo's speech began to deteriorate the angrier he got, and began to take on an outdated, almost southern twang from the old United States. "An' stop with the 'you must be starving' crap."

Quatre was nearly speechless. Since when did Duo not speak properly? It didn't make sense, he was the one always correcting the English of the other pilots, even Quatre, who was schooled in a British boarding school got pointers from him. "Duo, why are you talking like--"

"Y'all dunno what it's like ta be starvin'!" He yelled, and then stood from his seat, fists on the table and anger in his eyes. "Try growin' up 'n L2."

At the last part, everyone at the table looked up at Duo. All were in some state of visible shock, even Heero. As Duo turned around and stormed off to his room, no one made a move to stop him. No one even made a move to go back to their food, because four sets of eyes were following the brunette. It was a full minute before anyone snapped out of the sudden state of paralysis that swept over the remaining boys.

Naturally, it was Quatre who found his voice first. "I didn't know he was from L2."

The continued awkward silence confirmed what everyone suspected. No one had known, and everyone had suddenly lost their appetites.

Okay, my mind's pretty worn out between school and writing (yes, I'm in school till June)… So, please PLEASE review and leave me any comments, suggestions, or ideas you may have. It keeps my brain working. You're all so wonderful, even if you don't review.


	4. What you don't admit will kill you

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

This has had more reviews than I could hop for, thank you all! I would have posted this chapter sooner, but school's coming to a close, and I'm packing up to switch dorms for the summer.

**Special thanks to**: Satanic-Purple-Onion, Darkspider, Kerian, Scotty-lass, and Regina for all your signed reviews. You make me feel like I have a fan base. I'm glowing. To Bunch-o-nuts! Who reviewed a second time MINUTES BEFORE I POSTED THIS CHAPTER. I revised this to add you. And lastly, a thanks to camillian. It's not often a reviewer who's not logged in gives multiple reviews. Thanks for your support, and everyone else who reviewed.

The Perfection of 02

By: Maxwell-Yuy

Reloading his handgun, Duo looked up to see a hand grenade moving along the street, coming towards him. Instantly, he rolled out from under the truck and jumped up, taking off at a full run. He was no more than a few houses away when an explosion catapulted him into the air. However, the God of Death would not be taken down so easily. Landing on his feet and stumbling forward, hands almost touching the ground as means of steadying himself, he dashed down the street and towards the private beech. He had to get away from the residential zone; people were starting to appear in the windows of their houses.

The beach was small, having a mostly rocky shore along the coast of Positano. It didn't take long for Duo to reach the sand, and as soon as he did, Hilde opened fire from behind. Stumbling in wet sand, a sharp pain struck his right leg and his side. He saw, but did not register, the blood staining the white sand and dissolving into the water as he picked himself up. Barely missing a step, he sprinted across the shallow water to a small motor boat. As he jumped in, he heard a curse not far behind himself. Hilde had run out of ammunition, it appeared, but Duo didn't intend to test that knowledge. The motor started, and the boat took off, slowly at first, but picked up speed. Chancing a glance behind him, he saw Hilde throw her weapon to the sand and hijack a similar boat, starting in pursuit.

Duo knew there was no way to avoid confronting Hilde, and being one to face danger head on, he slowed the boat to a stop and waited for his stalker to appear. Almost as quickly as Hilde's approach, Duo began to feel the pain from his wounds. His right leg in particular was tightening up. Hilde had shot him twice, and _he'd_ barely even returned fire. He witnessed Hilde retrieve a handgun from somewhere, and before he knew it, he was shot again, this time on the left shoulder. Immediately, Duo dropped to the deck out of range of any more clear shots. Soon, he heard another engine cut off, and both he and Hilde knew that this meeting would be their last.

"Hilde?" Duo called while laying flat in his boat.

A moment of hesitation, and the other shouted back, "Yes, Duo?"

The Gundam pilot was listening intently to the girl on the other boat. "Tell me, Hilde, why'd you join OZ?"

A dangerous tone began to creep into Hilde's voice. "Wasn't it E.M. Forster who said, 'If I had to choose between betraying my country or betraying my friend, I hope I would have the guts to betray my country?'  Well, I chose, and then I changed my mind."

Hilde's voice had moved to the left, some. The sound wasn't closer, though. The boats must be circling one another. "Hilde, you betrayed your friend _and_ your colony! How does this serve to make you righteous?"

"You seem to forget," Hilde snapped, "that the colonies are no longer supporting you and the Gundam pilots. The colonies you fight for side with OZ now, which means that my allegiance to my colony now belongs to OZ. You and your band of 'friends' are nothing more than a rogue terrorist group, now. You have no home, no destination, and no hope!"

Hilde shot at Duo, and though she missed, the sound gave Duo exactly what he had been listening for – Hilde's location. "Hilde," he yelled, "I don't want to kill you!"

"You already have!" She shouted back, desperation in her voice and slight splash sound that told Duo the other had sat upright. "I loved you! I put my life on the line to bring you information, I did everything I could to help you, and what did you do? Tell me what you did, Duo!"

His eyes slowly closed as Duo let the words sink in. They were like a dead weight in his heart. He'd known Hilde loved him. Twice, he had wanted to explain that girl's love was not returned the way in which she wanted, but he couldn't break the other's heart like that. He didn't want to lose his friend. He didn't want Hilde to hate him. He especially didn't want Hilde to hate Heero. It wasn't the Wing pilot's fault, and knowing Hilde, she'd confront Heero, and get herself hurt – not to mention expose Duo's secret. Avoiding the gravity of the girl's feelings had been a big mistake. He didn't know how Hilde found out that he loved Heero; he had kept that secret close to his heart, and he was nearly certain no one would have suspected other than Quatre, Trowa, or Wu-Fei. But he cared for Hilde, he honestly did. And it was his care for the girl that lead to her demise.

"You can't say it, can you?!"

Softly, Duo murmured, "please, Hilde. Please, don't…"

"You can't admit aloud that you love _him_, can you?!"

Again, too soft for the other to hear, "don't make me, Hilde. Don't push it, don't…"

"I'm going to kill you! You can't break my heart like that after playing along!"

A whisper graced Duo's lips, "In nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritu Sancti…"

"How long were you going to toy with me and let me think you could love me?!"

A quiet plea escaped the Gundam pilot's lips, "forgive me, Father, for what I am about to become…"

"Face me and admit that you love--"

Hilde never finished her sentence. Duo hoisted himself up on his injured arm and without looking up, reached out with the other arm and took a blind shot. The motion was so fast; he didn't even register the pain in his arm until it collapsed under his weight. But there was a silence now that had not been there previously. Shaking, he struggled to sit up and took a quick look at the other boat. Hilde was slumped over, torso hanging off the boat and arms in the water. Duo had shot her through the head.

Pain. There was a dull pain in his chest that numbed his mind. He'd tried everything he could think of, but there was no other option than to sit and wait. Duo was going to die. But he couldn't think of that. The prefect soldier had no need for emotions. But he couldn't help but drift back to the idea that the braided boy was out there, somewhere, dying. Maybe not now, he might not die at that very moment. He might not even know he was dying. But Heero knew. Because there was no way the baka would give up on his comrades. And that, to Heero, meant he was dancing with death.

It was his fault, too. If he hadn't disregarded orders, all the pilots would be safe, or at least, as safe as they ever could be in the war. Their fates wouldn't lie in the hands of that lively braided boy… and Duo wouldn't die so needlessly. And what had Heero done before he left him, only to be captured in the largest ambush he'd seen yet in his short life? He'd yelled at him. He'd told Duo he was untrained and useless, or something to that effect. Duo's concussion wasn't bad, and he could have easily joined them, but Heero had been worried. Only now, as he sat shackled to the massive column in the middle of the designated detention area, did Heero admit that had Duo been on the mission, none of this would have happened. It was his fault, from when he ordered Duo to stay behind, to the moment OZ had been alerted to their presence.

For the few hours, Heero had given up testing his restraints. He knew that he would make it out of there alive. Everyone would – except Duo. That boy wouldn't even make it into the compound, and once he was killed, Treize would have had his fun and would let the rest of them go. If anything, the OZ Commander was a man of dignity; and though he would sink to great levels to test whatever that bastard Doctor, G, had said to him, Heero knew that Treize would not allow the war to end like this. He'd release his prisoners and allow the war to be fought with honor.

Something snapped him out of his thoughts, and he felt as though he was missing a piece to a puzzle when a voice snapped, "Yuy! Are you even listening?"

"Hn."

"Injustice! He won't even listen!" The was a shifting sound, and Wu-Fei continued, "If Maxwell is hurt by your poor decisions, I'll kill you myself, Yuy!"

Heero glared, though it was directed at no one because he couldn't see any of his comrades. "It's not wise to lose two pilots in such a short time. It'd be a shame to see you go, Chang, because if you make a move, you're the one who's dead."

"We'll see about that, Yuy! You--"

A low voice entered the argument, effectively cutting Wu-Fei off. "I think that Heero was following orders of another kind." There was suddenly a tension in the air that could be cut with a knife; it was radiating from the spot where Heero's voice had once been, moments before. "I think he was following the instructions to follow his emotions."

Quatre smiled in the dark as Heero snapped, "Trowa! You are not in my head. You don't know what you're talking about."

In the darkness, Trowa smirked. "Don't I, though?"

Lying in the motor boat on his back, Duo didn't move. Three gunshots were draining him of life, and liquid was pooling on the deck, because _he_, not the boat, had sprung a leak. After a moment of steadying himself with long, deep breaths, he blindly reached out and dragged his discarded duffle bag to his side. Fishing around inside the bag, still on his back, he eventually found his cell phone. It had naturally been tossed about the bag during his struggles. Quickly, he dialed the number for Sally Po, glad that upon acquiring the phone, he'd built in an automatic scrambler to render tracing the calls he made nearly impossible. As the phone rang, his patience grew thin. He was dying, and he needed medical attention.

"Hello, you've reached the voicemail of--"

Duo hung up. There was no point to leaving a message, he'd be dead by the time Sally replied. That damned woman was never around when he needed her. Actually, Duo admitted to himself, Sally had on many occasions traveled far and wide to save the lives of he and his fellow pilots while they were in positions in which hospitalization was not an option. Steeling himself for what was to come, Duo sat up with a suppressed scream. Even alone on a boat at least a half mile from shore, he wasn't about to willingly show pain. Bending over caused a sharp sting in his shoulder, side, and leg. He removed a knife from his boot, and a shirt and lighter from his bag. Ripping the shirt into long pieces, he tied a bandage around his left shoulder as tightly as he could using his teeth and right hand. His side had nearly stopped bleeding by that point; the shot had only grazed him.

Fumbling twice with the lighter he never used unless lighting candles when the power was out at various safe houses, he methodically began sterilizing his knife. The flame licked away at the pristine blade, and soon he was confident that anything that had gotten on the blade that could harm him was gone. After all, he'd cleaned it along with his gun before leaving on his mission.

Soon, the lighter was in his pocket, and Duo was carefully tucking his good leg under himself. Bringing the injured right leg to his side, he bent his knee. The outer right side now facing upward as the inner side lay flat on the deck; he took the knife in his right hand and found his gunshot wound. Cautiously, he used the knife to tear away a slit in his pants from the knee down, and examined the wound in his mid-calf. Quickly thinking, he searched for and then picked up a spent cartridge on the deck and fingered it gingerly with his left hand. "Bite the bullet, eh?" he growled, and placed the cartridge between his teeth and bit down onto the metal.

Breaking into a fine sweat, Duo took his blade and without hesitation, plunged the knife into his calf, screaming and biting indentations into cartridge in his mouth. As much as he wanted to, he didn't close his eyes. Instead, he looked closer, and felt with all his might for the bullet within him, silently praying it was in one piece. A little deeper, and a little to the right, and he felt something off. Was that the bullet? He'd soon find out, as he dug the knife underneath the object and pulled it upward.

He couldn't see a thing. Tears had built unshed in his eyes, and blood was everywhere. Differences between flesh, bone, and possible bullet were nearly indecipherable. Hands shaking, he reached overboard and scooped out a handful of water. Splashing the salty mix onto his wound burned the exposed flesh, but cleaned off just enough blood for him to see a faint copper colour beneath the crimson blanket. Sitting the knife on his thigh, he reached down and pulled a small bullet out of the mess of cut and battered flesh. Though the bullet was whole, which meant he didn't have to fish in his leg any further for smaller pieces, he felt no relief. His leg was numb, he was still bleeding, and he had another bullet in his shoulder to face.

Taking the remainder of his spare shirt to wrap his leg, he removed his belt, and vaguely wondered if Heero, who set his own broken bones, had ever done anything quite like this. Belt in hand, he struggled with looping it just under his knee. Injured shoulder spasming and refusing to help, he forced the appendage to function, and bit down hard as he pulled the belt as tight as possible and used sheer force to puncture an extra hole and fasten it in place. The belt, he reasoned, should stop circulation to the rest of his leg and lessen his chances of bleeding to death.

By now, he was tired. Blood loss was beginning to wear him down, his adrenaline was nearly spent, and he could feel dizziness slowly setting in. He reached for his bloodstained phone, and hit redial, hoping beyond belief that Sally Po would be available and at a location not far away. He spaced out, and almost didn't hear the woman on the other end of the line. "Hello? Hello? Duo, is that you?"

In a daze, Duo called softly, "Sally…"

Urgency set into the Doctor's voice. "Duo, where are you? What's wrong?"

"Positano," he began, and shook his head to clear it, which wasn't the brightest of ideas. "I'm on the beach," he continued and clarified as he turned his boat to the shore, "by the Onda Verde hotel. Gunshots – three. Lost a lot of blood. Removed one bullet."

There was a muffled command being ordered, and then Sally came back on the line. "You did what?! Duo, can you hold on for 45 minutes?"

"Negative. I'll be swimming with the fishes by then, Sal."

"Okay, I'll be there in 30 minutes. I'm already on my way."

What Sally didn't say, and what Duo already knew, was that the pilot had to stay conscious at all costs. Sleep was death, and sleep was a very tempting siren of the sea…

Oof. I hope that's good enough for all of you. You seem to expect so much from me! sniffle I'm not used to writing like this, yet! I know where the story's going, but I'm not sure what path I'm taking next. If there's anything you REALLY want to know in the next installment, tell me, and I'll see what I can do for you. The next chapter will mostly focus on the other pilots. I think Duo needs a rest, poor thing.


	5. Secret relations

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

**Note: **I'm really sorry for the wait. Last week of classes, and I had 5 papers to write (one took 13 hours of work, no breaks). Now it's finals week, and then I'm off for a vacation, which I think is much deserved. I'll be back writing in two weeks. Sorry, but final exams and then skipping town… you get the idea.

TO MY REVIEWERS: You kept me sane through research paper after research paper. It still blows my mind how incredible some encouragement is from people I don't even know.

The Perfection of 02

By: Maxwell-Yuy

Wu-Fei heard a pause outside the door to his training and meditation room, and thought to himself how surreal it was that Maxwell had become so well trained. He took a moment to complete his meditation. Even though the racket upstairs had been enough to stir him from his deep calm, he would finish before allowing the braided boy entrance. A moment later, standing, he called, "you may enter, Maxwell."

The door opened to reveal an emotionless Duo. Everything about him, from his face to his stance was blank; yet the anger still glowed in his eyes. "Wu-Fei," he began, "you no doubt are aware that there was an argument upstairs."

His monotone sent a slight chill down the Chinese boy's spine. He'd seen him after fights with Heero, but something about this argument cut him deeper. "What did Yuy say?"

A low chuckle filled the air, but it was devoid of mirth. "Quatre," Duo corrected. "It was Quatre." He locked the door behind him and approached Wu-Fei slowly, with a sort of caution he used only at times like this, when he was hurt and came to the Chinese youth for the comfort and release he found nowhere else. It wasn't the same caution he used when stalking prey on the battlefield, and it wasn't the same caution he used when he was with his friends on a normal basis. This was different, almost as though he was hesitant to initiate contact. His eyes were haunted, and from their close proximity, Wu-Fei could see the colour changing in the violet eyes: they'd been clouded with passion. The two stood, eyes locked for an eternal few seconds, close enough for the Chinese pilot to feel the heat radiating from his riled up comrade. Duo gravitated a little closer, their noses a mere 3 inches apart and his hands on his Asian friend's shoulders. Wu-Fei knew what was coming as he felt Duo's breath tickle his face, "Shall we begin? I don't want to waste any time…"

The long haired boy's left hand moved down Wu-Fei's arm, lower and lower to caress and fondle the object of his interest. The Chinese boy gave a small jump, startled at his counterpart for the unusual aggression and initiative. "Duo," he began quietly, "don't we usually warm up a bit, first?"

Duo showed no signs of backing off. "But Wuffie," he said, a mock hurt in his voice, "I need this now. You know I do. And I'm not going to go easy on you."

His hand tightened on the other's pride and joy, and Wu-Fei's eyes widened. He looked down. "Be careful, Duo. There's only so much I can take before I throw you down to the ground right now. Let go, or you're in for the workout of your life."

Duo smirked, and roughly pulled Wu-Fei's katana from the sheath at his side. Deftly, Wu-Fei dashed to the other side of the room and grabbed his secondary sword. In no time, the two were dueling, Duo's eyes having taken on a passionate, yet almost evil glint. He loved sparing with the Chinese boy. Nothing in the world was like being taught by his friend how to brandish a sword with the most ancient and skilled techniques of the Dragon Clan. Just last week his teacher had told him that he was beginning to surpass him in skill, and he was going to test that to extremes.

A clash of swords sent Wu-Fei and Duo bouncing apart; ready for whatever the other had planned. Holding his sword up in front of him, the Chinese boy circled Duo with excitement in his eyes. He could see that the boy had been pushed far enough to perform exceedingly well today, and he couldn't wait to see how Duo's diligent training had paid off. Sometimes, he wondered if the braided boy was more dedicated to the art of swordsmanship than he was. "Maxwell," he said, "you shouldn't hold your sword like that. Holding it parallel to the mouth leaves you open for attack, and leaves you in a position to strike slower."

Duo just smiled in response, but the Chinese boy couldn't see the smile behind the blade of the sword he held. Wu-Fei attacked, lunging toward his friend, but Duo was far faster than he'd anticipated. Before he knew it, Duo has parried his strike, and with a quick movement, slipped behind Wu-Fei and used one foot to shove him to the ground. Wu-Fei quickly recovered and faced the other pilot again. "How'd you get so fast? No one moves that quickly out of the stance you used, Maxwell."

"I managed to get a sword made of platinum -- for practicing. Highly impractical, and the 'blade' is a cylinder. It's overwhelmingly heavy. It took me three full training sessions to be able to hold it properly, Sifu."

Wu-Fei was stunned, but he still found himself aware enough to smile at the Chinese name for "teacher" Duo used for him in their sessions. If he'd thought the boy was dedicated before, he thought he was obsessive now. "Duo, that sword must weigh almost 30 pounds!"

"Thirty-one point two three." The boy was smirking, watching his opponent like a hawk. "It's 40.3 cubic inches, and platinum weighs 0.775 pounds per cubic inch." Giving the other no time to mentally check his calculations, Duo attacked. The two moved as though performing a dance. Wu-Fei began to breathe heavier, and sweat began to accumulate on his brow. Duo moved as though he gave no effort to his calculated motions, and his teacher expected he wasn't. They matched each other blow for blow, until one made a mistake. A sword dropped to the ground, and Wu-Fei held his bloodied hand.

Duo registered what he'd done, and rushed forward. "Wu-Fei! Ni meí shì bà?¹"

"I'm fine, Maxwell, it's just a cut."

Nonetheless, Duo took it upon himself to bandage his friend's hand. Wu-Fei had kept silent throughout the ordeal, and finally, he couldn't take Duo's apologetic "duìbùqî!²" any longer.

"Maxwell! Hâo le!³ That's enough already! It's just a cut. Really. Stop saying you're sorry and acting like you took off my hand! I never thought I'd get tired of you speaking Chinese, but this is enough!" He saw the look of confusion, embarrassment, and hurt in Duo's violet eyes as they lowered to the ground. Wu-Fei took a deep breath and closed his own eyes.

"You know," he started, "you've outgrown my teachings. It's been five months, and you've mastered an art that has been passed down in the Dragon Clan for centuries." He paused, as if in thought, and Duo remained quiet. "Usually our sword techniques are strictly kept in-clan." Duo's head popped up, and his eyes widened. Wu-Fei smiled and continued, "I'm the last one left, Duo. I wanted to make sure that if I died in this war, there would be someone else to pass down our tradition. I couldn't have found a better student."

"Wu-Fei…"

The Chinese boy stood and shook his head. "Our lessons are over, Maxwell. But I would love to spar with you again, sometime." As he sheathed the sword Duo had discarded while he bandaged him, Wu-Fei walked away, then stopped in the doorway and turned his head towards the inside of the room. "Welcome to the Dragon Clan," he whispered.

Duo heard him, and smiled one of his first genuine smiles since the war began. He left to work on his laptop in the dining room, and hoped Quatre wouldn't try to bother him.

Thinking about the incident sent a shiver up Wu-Fei's spine. Duo had begun his training as a means of letting out aggression, as well as a way to calm himself after fights with Heero. Whenever he entered "the zone" there was a spark in his eye he'd never seen before, not even as he piloted his suit. Several times he tried to shake the bad feeling that came with watching Duo, but somewhere deep inside there was a voice that nagged him. More than anything, he wanted to voice to be wrong. Because what he had seen in those violet orbs terrified him; and he was not one to scare easily. But it was in those eyes that he realized just how suiting the nickname of Death was for the boy. Because it wasn't the thrill of mastering a skill he saw, but the need for blood to be spilt. When Duo reached his highest performance level, it wasn't concentration or determination or even the adrenaline rush that guided his movements: it was the primal urge to kill.

He turned his head to look where Heero was being held, but of course nothing had changed, he still couldn't see his comrade. Still, he looked, and thought of how even Heero, as emotionless as he pretended to be, had never had the look Duo possessed. To the Wing pilot, killing was a necessary part of the mission. He never went beyond that necessity, and he never killed for pleasure. He briefly wondered how Heero would react to finding out the Duo had a monster within him that went beyond the simple duties of a soldier.

Turning to face straight ahead once again, he closed his eyes and gave a silent sigh. Only once did he ever wish he hadn't welcomed Duo into the remainder of his clan. It was after their intense practice, when Duo beat him and he'd confided in the braided boy about his thoughts on the future of his clan. It was the night that Quatre's incessant nagging pulled out of Duo the information none of them had ever imagined they would hear

When he'd found out that the boy was from _that place_, his first thoughts didn't compute due to shock. His second thoughts were to take back his earlier words, because no one from L2 would ever be a part of the Dragon Clan.

After that night, they didn't spar again. Their avoidance of Duo was almost cruel. Only a week later, before he met up with the others for their latest and failed mission, did he come to terms with Duo's past. The boy was his friend. Duo had saved his life and he'd been top of the line back up, and pulled his weight in more ways than one. There was no need to look down on the boy because of his home colony. It wasn't like once they found out he was from L2, that Duo would change. I wasn't like he'd suddenly perform his job with poor efficiency. He wouldn't backstab them all of the sudden. He wouldn't betray them after so many months of forging strong links to each other. Regardless of the reputation of his colony, he turned out to be honorable and strong. Besides, Wu-Fe wasn't sure Duo had done all the things people heard about on the Intercolonial News.

But he did live on the streets. There's a good chance he was involved in all of that. There was a good chance he dealt or took illegal substances. There was a good chance he sold his body to make enough to eat. And there was an even better chance that he was in a gang as a child, and terrorized the few working members of the public. That he participated in gang violence and murdered some innocent person who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, all to steal a wallet. And there was a chance, albeit small, that he was in the gang that caused the plague of L2.

Duo looked the right age, after all. But no one, not even Duo knew how old he was. Yet there was a group of kids his age who had broken into a lab and stolen an illegal virus. No pharmaceutical company would sponsor a lab on L2; it was just too risky, even with low costs. But some independent scientist who had decided to cut costs and work on L2 had been careless. In an attempt to cure a previous strain of disease, he'd accidentally created a more destructive virus. No one hired from L2 can ever be fully trusted, and a lab assistant leaked the information. A group of street kids stole it to sell on the black market and become rich, but… it didn't happen as they planned. Most of the street gang died, and 4.5 million people died on a colony that had supported seven million as a result.

The sound of metal scraping on stone jolted the Chinese pilot out of his reverie. He listened, without making a sound.

"Heero?"

So, it was Quatre who moved.

"Hn."

"Do you think it was that bad? All the stories we hear, I didn't think – Do you think that's the reason why?"

So Quatre was thinking similar thoughts about Duo's origins. But… the reason why? The reason why _what?_

"Maybe."

"But what if--"

"Don't worry."

"You're worried."

"Quatre, you don't know me."

So Yuy _was_ worried. Good. If he wasn't, Wu-Fei was going to strangle him.

"But I can sense--"

"Shut up, Quatre. You don't know what you're talking about. Omae o korosu."

Threatening Quatre only serves to get Trowa angry. For reasons unfathomable to Wu-Fei, Heero never seemed to get that though his head. He waited for the rebuke, but there was only silence. Something was wrong, or Trowa was asleep. But one thing was certain: staying there was going to kill them.

Chinese translations:

1. Ni meí shì bà? – Are you okay?

2. duìbùqî! – I'm sorry!

3. Hâo le! – Okay! (in the rude sense)

Alright, I'll catch you all later, when I'm done with finals week and back from my vacation. In the meantime, I promise to brainstorm.


	6. Inner Demons

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it. Duo recites Psalm 23, "The Lord is My Shepherd." I believe it is entirely out of context where I placed it. I'm not religious, so I don't know these things as well as other people.

Note: I'm INSANELY SORRY about the wait. I was going to take a 2 week break, and then I ended up moving out of state! Plus, when I finally got the chapter done, was having a "server" problem, and I couldn't log in.

I feel accomplished. I mapped out this chapter AND the next one, as well as jotted down my basic ideas for the rest of the story (ie: who dies and how, who lives and how). Next chapter will likely be up within the next week and a half; maybe even sooner. I have to go out of state for the weekend…. Again. My grandma isn't feeling to great.

REVIEWERS: How did I get 56 reviews on one story?! I was excited back when I got 50 reviews TOTAL, and now I have 56 for ONE STORY. I love you. Each and every one of you. You're my fuel.

Emerald: I'd finished half of this chapter and come to a halt three days ago. Then I read your review. "Great story, I've read it 10 times now, please write more." I realized that all I needed to do in order to get this chapter done was to go back and read it from the start. Thanks for the inspiring idea.

Yasei Raiden: I don't speak Chinese. But I can say this: I rock. I have my sources, and I triple check them. I'm glad I fooled you, though! That means my work was worth it. :)

The Perfection of 02

By: Maxwell-Yuy

"Be careful with him!"

"Holy shit… so much blo--"

"You! Go back to the truck, bring more bandages, we can't transport till we stabilize… oh, SHIT! He's in shock, bring blankets, bring tranqs, bring everything we've got!"

"Doc, he opened his eyes for a second!"

"Don't be silly, Graff. There's no way anyone could—oh my god. Duo's conscious. WHERE ARE THE SEDATIVES?!'

The heat was almost unbearable. Where was it coming from? There was defiantly something amiss. And pain, too. The pain was all over his body, and it was difficult to pinpoint one spot from which it originated. But the heat was another matter. First it was in his face, but that wasn't the center of it, no, that was where he first felt it. He traced its path in his mind, following the trail to lead to the spot from which the blinding heat came. The path traced down his lips, across his neck, and to the collarbone. But, where from there? He stood at his metal crossroad and relaxed, and suddenly he could feel it clearly. His left shoulder was on fire, and something was prodding it. His eyes jerked open.

"Duo!"

As the boy on the floor muttered the name "Sally," the doctor urgently ordered more anesthetics. Sally, holding her artery forceps looked down at the patient. "You shouldn't be awake; we gave you enough to keep you knocked out for two days!"

"Nnnn…" Duo groaned.

An assistant came with the anesthetics, and leaned over Duo. Suddenly, the boy reached up with his good arm and grabbed the assistant by the collar. "Duo Maxwell!" Yelled Sally, angrily, "let go of my nurse! We're trying to help you!"

"I wunt tuh be awake." He slurred, unable to clearly annunciate.

Sally's eyes steeled over, "I don't advise that, Duo, you've done a lot of--" She caught the look of determination in her patient's eyes and stopped. "if you die, I am not responsible. Now release my help."

Duo let go, and watched as Sally went back to work. This time, he didn't have a spent cartridge to bite. This time, he didn't scream.

The temporary nursing station was quiet and appeared almost abandoned. Security inside was loose, and no one noticed the break in. No one was aware that the storage facility lock had been picked, and supplies taken. No one noticed the missing duffle bag or the shifting of shadows, and no one noticed the missing patient. And although everything went unnoticed, nothing was unexpected.

With a click, a flashlight went on, and Duo was caught sneaking out towards the door. "Duo, where are you going?" Sally's voice softly filled the room, "it's 3am, and you should be resting."

There was a noticeable pause before the longhaired pilot answered. "I'm going after my friends."

Duo couldn't see Sally with the light in his eyes, but he felt the disapproving stare cast his way. "You got out of surgery not even twelve hours ago. You need a few days to rest."

"If I stop now, they'll die."

"If you continue, _you'll_ die!"

"Sally…"

"This isn't negotiable. You're staying here until you recover."

A crisp click signaled a change in atmosphere. Duo's gun was no longer on safety, and it was pointing at the doctor and friend who saved his life. "Sally," he began, "you're a doctor. It's your job to save lives; I know that. So I want you to consider this: if I go, I may die. That's one life lost. But if I stay, four lives will certainly be lost, and you know I'll soon follow after exacting my revenge. And somewhere in this fray, other lives will be lost. Oz soldiers will die at my hands if my friends are hurt. You know I don't kill unless I have to, but I have no reservations on killing if my friends are dead. So, if you detain me, more people will die as a result of your actions, of your choices, than if I'm allowed to choose my own way. And I really don't want to have to hurt you."

Sally didn't move, and Duo took that as his exit. There was no hesitation as the early morning air touched his face as he plowed on in the shadows. He didn't know where he was going. The base in Positano was just bait to lure him into a trap, and there was never any real connection between Zechs and the abandoned base.

His mind began to process fatigue. Each step numbed his mind a little more. The change was unperceivable until it reached a critical mass. His head felt like it was being squeezed; and tiny pinpoints were traveling up and down his scalp. This feeling took away from the numbness in his shoulder and leg. He'd ignored his leg after removing the bullet while on the boat, and walking had brought back the searing pain. But his body kept moving, and he made no move to stop it. Soon his movement became an endless cycle of breathing in and taking a step, breathing out and taking another step. The rhythm was enchanting, and soon the only sound he was aware of was his own breath, and the shuffling of his feet.

The daze didn't break until dawn. Suddenly aware of the morning light, he stopped. Mind still blank, he slowly came to his senses and blinked away the warm light in his eyes to register the small beach where he found himself. He'd been there just the day before. The water was clear and the sand the same sterile white it had been before his blood had stained it crimson. How could something so stained with death become so clean again?

Collapsing to his knees, he dipped his fingers in the sand and pulled out a handful, which glided between his fingers with grace and fell back to the beach. The water ahead was aglow with a soft red. It wasn't the harsh crimson of blood, but the gentile red-orange of the rising sun. "Hilde…" he whispered, his words floating away with the breeze. He lowered his head and held onto his cross. He remembered that Father Maxwell once taught him a psalm, a prayer to help understand death. He didn't believe in god then, and he didn't believe now. Nothing could change the unwavering fact that god did not exist. It was not for faith, nor for his friend he uttered his next words, but for Father Maxwell, who once asked of him to say a prayer for his departed friend, Solo. It didn't help, but it didn't hurt. And to remember Father Maxwell at a time like this when he'd killed his own friend, Father Maxwell who always taught him that he was a good child, that he had a profound innocence and love of life… that was worth an empty prayer.

"The lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. To lie in green pastures I go. He leads me beside the still waters. He guides me, restoreth my soul." Releasing one hand from the cross, he reached to the sand once more, to smooth the surface before him.

"Though I walk in the valley of death's shadow, I fear not with you at my side. Thy rod and thy staff, they do comfort me. Through the veil of death, god is my guide." His hand paused, memorizing the feel of the sand, memorizing the feeling of the morning sun on his face and the smell of the sea.

"God prepareth a table before me in the presence of my deadly foe. He annointeth my head with fine oil. My cup, with his love, overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life on this earth--" He stopped. It was foolish, really. He didn't believe any of this. There was no god, and goodness and mercy did not truly exist.

He hated Father Maxwell for leaving him with only a symbol of his religion and some psalms to remember the old man. He always felt dirty and hypocritical uttering the Father's words or caressing his cross. They did not belong to who Duo was; they were just figments of lives past of which only he bore the memory. If he forgot, those who died in the church would truly be dead. If he remembered, he compromised himself to preserve a memory long past. One day, he decided, he would forget the psalms. He would forget the cross, and all that accompanied its burden. But for now, he would keep his memories and honor the man who came closest to being a real father to him. "I will dwell in my lord's house forevermore: Death's passage is but my new birth."

Silence settled around the table. The situation was awkward, but not in a funny way or a cute uncomfortable way. It was an awkward situation caused by tension, anger, and uncertainty, and no one knew how to handle it. For Heero, he felt as though a level of trust had been breeched. The person he had come to rely on most had lied about something so fundamental he wasn't sure he knew him anymore. No, Duo didn't lie and Heero and the others knew it. He simply avoided questions that could lead to prodding into his past. He changed subjects or created distractions to keep the truth to himself. The thought of Duo growing up on L-2 was simply disgusting.

Heero stood and left the table without a sound, not even bothering to clear his plate. He found solitude in the living room, and made a camp with his laptop. Once again, he went through familiar patterns with his hands; his fingers deftly working to search for any record of a "Duo Maxwell" in any system. His hacking skills had turned up nothing for the last few months, and he wasn't surprised to once again finish his search empty handed. The boy had no records. This was impossible; even Heero had records, though false ones. Duo technically didn't exist.

His lack of an existing record with the L-2 police meant that he had never been in any trouble on his home colony. Still, Heero doubted that Duo had never participated in any illegal activities. He figured he had just never gotten caught -- he was the stealth expert, after all. Heero had spent countless hours trying to dig up information on his most valued team member since they'd met. He knew enough about the other pilots to understand their mindsets and behaviors, but Duo was a continual enigma. Of course, the display at the dinner table had more than explained his eccentricities. Honestly, he was surprised with how well Duo had turned out… considering the stock he came from. But now he was doubly curious about the long-haired pilot. He wanted to know everything, and he knew he would learn nothing unless Duo chose to divulge information.

Dishes were being washed, and the others would be in the living room shortly. Quatre would want to talk about the new developments, but Heero didn't want any part of that. He couldn't go upstairs, though. Duo was there, and he couldn't face him. It wasn't fear that gripped Heero, but uncertainty. He was beyond confused, and he didn't understand why. Duo was his friend, and he cared for him, but… could he remain friends with someone so dirtied? Was Duo really as dirty as the people from L-2, especially the street kids, tended to be? Could he be so tainted when she seemed so alive and so pure?

He wasn't going to think about it. He couldn't afford to think about it, and neither could the other pilots. They didn't need to be torn apart by this, but Heero wasn't ready to face the new situation. He knew somewhere inside that he was going to avoid Duo for as long as he could manage. He felt as though he might know somewhere deep inside that avoiding Duo would hurt him to the point where major steps might be needed to bring things back to normal later. But Heero Yuy was not a man to search his soul for answers, nor was he a man who investigated every feeling he thought he might be experiencing. For now, he would avoid Duo in the same manner he was sure the others would, and hope nothing terrible would happen.

"Heero?" Quatre called.

Shit. He was too lost in his thoughts to realize that enough time had gone by for the rest of the pilots to make their way into the living room with him. "Hn."

"I just… never mind."

Good. He didn't want to hear it. Glancing at Trowa and Wu-Fei, Heero made an exit outside for a much needed walk.

None of the remaining pilots spoke. Trowa sat on one sofa, seemingly absorbed in the wall to his left. His single exposed eye was reflective and pacified, and his face, which at a first glance seemed slack and expressionless, held a slight tension it often possessed when he concentrated on something. For once, he sat apart from Quatre. It was obvious with the tension in the air that no one wanted physical contact with any other person. They weren't sure if Duo, who gave hugs and sneak pounce attacks and touched them, had transferred any of the L-2 lowlife disease and grime.

Quatre, who had grown up sheltered and had thought until the war began that L-2, in all its raw glory, was an urban myth, sat with his knees up by his face and his arms crossed in front of him. The boy had regressed into a stance which invited no one in. Eyes fixated on his feet before him, he relished the company of his comrades while still being vaguely afraid of them. He also seemed ashamed, probably regretting having been the cause of Duo's confession. Nonetheless, he was disturbed and thankful for the enlightenment. Had he not found out sooner, something catastrophic could have happened.

In the armchair hunched Wu-Fei, bent over and replaying the last hour in his head. There was no justice in Maxwell's childhood, yet he was clearly honorable. Everything about him had suddenly become a contradiction. By all means, according to reports on L-2 children, Duo should be serving in jail a sentence of at least ten years by now. But everything somehow fit into place. The drive he had within himself was the kind of drive that having a pure soul and growing up in a harsh environment would produce. He channeled everything with positive energy, not negative. It was his spirits that made him a human being, and not a monster. But how stable was he? How could anyone know when he would snap? Perhaps it would be best to let Duo work out his demons on his own.

I'm outta here for the weekend. I'll bring my old, 2 million pound laptop and write over the weekend.


	7. An Issue With Trust

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

Note: Wow. Terribly sorry for making this one take almost a month! Yeah, my usual excuse is that I was out of town, or that I had finals? both of which were true at varying times, though I was out of town for a grand total of about two weeks. However, most of the wait has been due to a general writer's block (even though I knew what I wanted to write) and also I HAD NO INTERNET FOR A MONTH. cries But school is over, and the internet is back.

TO MY REVIEWERS: How you manage to take the time and read this is beyond me, let alone writing the stellar reviews I've gotten. You're the most amazing group of people ever. I'd take my hat off to you if I wore hats?but I don't. I look bad in hats.

PS: for Einld, "Suki Desu" means "I like you." But the connotation is more of "I LIKE you, like you." It's a casual "I love you" without being so serious make-eye-contact-and-recite-bad-poetry.

Second Note: Holy crap, I didn't put an action sequence in this. I'm so sorry, but I really DID need to do some plot advancement. I'll have a good few sequences coming up? back to back fights. At night. In a city. With a totally unexpected twist!!! Bwwwahahahahaaa!!

**THIRD NOTE:** Whoa. WAIT A SECOND. I swear to you I DID put in scene change marks (as always.) Apparently, didn't publish them. I looked at my file and THEY'RE THERE. So I tried "??????." And I tried, "--------------" and I went back to " " and NONE OF THEM WORKED. So now I'm angry. Now I just hand coded the scene changes in Document Manager. If this doesn't work, I'm simple going to write "SCENE CHANGE" which will completely destroy the rhythm.

The Perfection of 02

By: Maxwell-Yuy

Duo opened a drawer in his bedside table at Quatre's estate. Gently, he removed a small box and looked at it for a moment. Checking the door to make sure no one was nearby, he opened his treasure to reveal a silver bullet with a hollow tip. He picked up the small piece of metal and rolled it through his fingers slowly and thoughtfully. Quickly, he took his old-fashioned revolver from his holster and loaded the single bullet, spinning the chamber and cocking the weapon with a soft click. His hands were dirty, he noticed, as he took the time to examine them. Glass was in his palm, and mud was fused with blood caking the skin from his fingers to his mid forearm. He sighed and held the gun to his temple, and pulled the trigger without a second thought.

On the first floor, Quatre sat alone on the sofa in the living room. He looked up to see Duo walking down the stairs. Something was wrong. "Quatre, are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Duo closed his eyes. That wasn't a real answer; it was a counter method to get Duo to leave him alone. "Quat, I may not have any sixth sense, but don't you think I can see when my friends are upset?"

The blonde pilot let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. As Duo sat next to him, he gathered himself together to tell his friend what was going on. "Trowa hasn't said he loves me," he burst out, letting the words spill from his mouth without pause, "and I'm so worried that he doesn't. What if he's just settling because what I give to him is enough? What if he doesn't feel the same, and it's all mechanical or--" Words died on his tongue as Quatre chocked back a sob. "Why can't he say he loves me when I tell him?"

The pain in Duo's chest increased as he listened to his friend's worries. He held Quatre tightly and closed his eyes, wishing for the blonde to find the peace he so badly needed. "Quatre, shhh? it'll be okay. He loves you, he really does. I can see it in his eye, you know, the one that shows, and I hear it in his voice?when he bothers to speak." Quatre stifled a laugh, and Duo knew he had won him over for the moment. "He needs some time, that's all. A man of few words needs time to process the ones he will speak. I swear to you on death itself that he will say the words you want to hear."

Duo was suddenly cold when Quatre pulled away from their embrace, a lingering tingle on his skin reminded him that the physical contact he so rarely encountered had actually existed. The tearful blonde smiled up at Duo, amusement in his eyes. "On death?" he asked.

"Yeah," the longhaired boy replied, casting his eyes downward. "Death is the only constant in life." With a firm squeeze on Quatre's shoulder, Duo left to continue on his walk outside.

It was blatantly obvious that the rest of the world wouldn't end if Duo's world collapsed and he shriveled up and died alone. The air was abound with the sweet smell of a warm summer rain, and the skies were freshly cleared. It was, he noted, always this kind of mild summer shower that left every colour more vibrant and every scent more intense. Such a short shower could revive the earth, he found one he had stayed long enough to experience it, and that was why he loved the rain. But today he dismissed it, idly watching the grass and wistfully contemplating the damp air and how it could be his last time to experience the world at such peace. He had walked out to the servant's house and sat on the back porch with his feet in the grass. No one came out here, and it was the perfect place to be alone. Elbows on his knees, he lowered his head to his hands and rested his mouth on his palms. He closed his eyes and took in a shallow breath that hitched in his throat as he willed himself not to cry.

Duo only became aware of the setting sun when a hand touched his back. He must have been out for a long time, because he could have sworn he left the house in the early afternoon. Lifting his face from his hands was unnecessary; he knew the presence of Trowa Barton when he felt it. A long moment of silence passed, and the sun was nearly vanished before Trowa spoke. "Quatre sent me to find you. I saw the blood on his shirt, he said it could have only come from you. He took a nap after you left, and didn't notice it until I woke him up to see if he was hurt." The green-eyed boy looked down at Duo. "Can I see your hands?" Wordlessly, the boy sat upright and held his hands out palm up. Blood was smeared on his face, and he had some minor cuts on his cheeks from the glass in his palm. Trowa took hold of his hands and examined them one by one. "How long has this glass been here? You're getting an infection, you need to clean this and treat it." Still not speaking, Duo withdrew his hands and let them fall limp between his knees. Trowa waited for a reply, but none came. "Duo, how did you get injured?"

"I aggravated Heero too much." His voice was monotone and his face deadpan, "I was joking around, and somehow while rough-housing I broke one of the car windows. He pulled out his gun, gave the 'omae o korosu' bit, and came closer. I backed up and I fell into the mud, spun around to catch myself, hands first, into the glass."

"Duo?" Trowa began, "You need to take care of yourself better. If the perfect soldier is a bastard, then that's his fault, not yours. He just can't see what's right in front of him. He doesn't take his own advice." Duo laughed, and Trowa looked disturbed. "We're worried about you, Duo. You shouldn't take that shit from him, even if he is our makeshift leader. He doesn't treat anyone else like that. He doesn't even treat Relena the way he does you. I don't understand him. He cares more for you then the rest of--"

"Shut up, Trowa. He and I, we're not best friends and he doesn't give a damn about me outside mission parameters. I was wrong to think it. I haven't had a best friend in years."

Trowa looked down to the dirt by his feet. "Even if you want to exclude Heero, we're all your friends, Duo. You mean a lot to us--outside of the mission. You're like family. If anything were to happen to you--"

"Life would go on, and you'd all forget me after the war. I don't have real friends, Trowa. All my friends are dead. All my family died. I don't have the ability to have people close to me. There's a lot I hope you never know about me. I hope I take all of me to the grave, and I hope it's before the war ends. I can't afford to have anyone know who I am. I can't afford to love or be loved."

Trowa didn't speak. The two sat in silence, and even though Duo was used to his counterpart being silent as the grave, this particular silence was unnerving. Trowa was obviously in deep thought, and it was evident that he didn't like what Duo had said. After a few moments, he continued, "You should tell Quatre, you know. It would mean a lot to him to hear it from you."

"Why, Duo?"

"Because he needs to hear you say it."

"No," Trowa pushed, "why do you always look out for others and ignore yourself?"

Duo paused. "When you grow up with so little to hold onto, you learn to look out for the few people you trust."

Trowa let his words sink in, responding a moment later with soft words that fell to Duo's ears and settled in his heart. "Don't you trust yourself, Duo?"

Violet eyes became pained, and Trowa feared he did something wrong. He looked out into the sky and sighed. "No," he whispered, "I don't."

>>>>>

The silence was deafening. He could have sworn the only sound other than his fan and the rumble of engines was the ringing in his ears. High and soft in pitch, it bothered him to no end. There was no work to be done, so he concentrated on his ears. Swallowing caused a faint pop, but not enough to change the pitch. Moving his tongue had much of the same effect, though the pop became a bit stronger. He moved his jaw, to find little difference, and then tightening the back of his jaw where it met his ears, it happened. His ears popped, or, his right ear popped. Now he was in a predicament. Fixing the second ear would undo the work on the first, and leaving his ears in their current situation was not only uncomfortable, but annoying.

He reached forward for a bottle and took a swig of his drink, nearly laughing at himself. When did his life become so mundane that he could spend his time experimenting with ways to pop his ears? Maybe he was getting too old. Standing from his desk, he walked the three feet to his bed and collapsed, not forgetting to set his alarm for a few hours rest.

Dreams of motor cycles, fast cars, and beautiful women were interrupted all too soon by an aggravating beeping. With a groan, he reached over and turned off the alarm, turning over to go back to sleep. Immediately, another shrill sound startled him, and he slammed a hand down on his alarm again. The sound continued, and grew in volume. Angry, he picked up his alarm and stared at it for a moment, trying to remember where he was and what the sound was when he finally noticed the vibration in his pocket. Instantly, he snapped out of his daze and answered the phone. "Yes?"

"Well, well, well? if it isn't my old friend, Howard!"

"?Duo? Is that you?"

"Did you really think I was dead by now?"

The old man smiled, "not in a million, kid. Where are you?"

"Oh, you know? about. Unky Howie, mind if little old Duo pays a visit? I need some information and some gear, and I heard you were in the area."

Laughing at his nick-name, Howard sat up in bed and walked to his computer. "And just where are you that you think you're on my way?"

"Right now? I took a trip over to Naples. I believe you're only twenty minutes off shore, last I checked. I'm at a very quaint internet café. The waitress is being extra nice, I think she has a thing for me." Howard could make out the words, 'Vuoi cenare con me?¹' coming from a stranger, and Duo laughing. "Oh, this is too much. Hold on a minute, Howard." Though he didn't speak Italian, the old man could have sworn he heard Duo telling the waiter something about wanting thirteen kids and not having much time left to have them because of the war. "Haha, Howard, she's giving me a weird look. Il conto, per favore.² Okay, Howard, I'm gonna get outta here, meet you..?"

"Sure, kid. I'll be there."

"Great! See you!"

>>>>>

Dust sprang from the mattress and the wire coils creaked as Duo dropped his duffle bag on the cot in one of the Sweeper's spare rooms. Had he not been forced into worse conditions before, he might have felt claustrophobic. His body urged his to drift over to the cot and sleep, but his mind vehemently protested and reminded his of his captured friends. He hauled himself out of his room and through the narrow corridors of the ship towards the communications room.

"Duo!," called a familiar voice once he entered the communications room and had found a computer for himself. "I haven't seen you in while, how are you?"

"The usual, Amon. Listen, I need your help. I was doing some hacking in Naples and found out that Zechs Marquis is meeting a friend, Lieutenant Lucretia Noin, in Germany. I couldn't pinpoint which city, but I know this is going down in the next few days, and I must have a fix on the location. Can you put your network to use and see if anyone has heard anything?"

The young man gave him a gentile smile, "anything for Duo. Just try keep in touch more, Howard worries, you know?"

"And by 'Howard' you mean yourself, am I right?"

"Aww, Duo," he wined as he sat on the desk next to the console the boy was working at, "you know we ALL worry about you. I just also want you settle down with me after  war, and I can't marry dead man." He reached a hand out to brush a strand of hair from his face, but Duo caught his wrist first. Amon was well aware that he didn't like people touching his hair, but it had never stopped him from trying. "When you gonna warm to me? You single, you beautiful, you marry me, right?"

Duo let a soft chuckle escape his lips. "My heart isn't mine to give, Amon."

"Then we be friends with sex, right?"

"No, Amon. Are you going to get me my information, or am I going to have to do it myself?"

"You good sport, Riea. Trust me, if there is info, I find it for you. If there is man who treat you bad, I kill him for you." He hopped off the desk and began over to his own console when he stopped and turned to Duo again, "Duo, why you speak English to me? You forget all the Russian you learn?"

Already in a database in South Africa, Duo reclined in his chair looked at his flirtatious friend. "I'm just tired, Amon. Besides, ya po-russky ne govoryu.³"

>>>>>

Howard found him five hours later still working diligently at his computer. A frown crept onto his face as he watcher Duo. It was evident even in his typing that he needed rest. Bloodshot eyes were half masked by fallen hair, and he seemed to be hitting the delete key more often than anything else. Though his fingers still danced upon the keyboard as quickly as always, the typos were slowing down his progress. Placing a hand on Duo's shoulder, Howard sighed. "Duo, get some rest. You come on my ship barely held together, skip even an introduction, and work non-stop. Kid, you're going to fall apart at this rate. Don't you trust us to get your information?"

The soft clicking of keys halted as Duo's hands hovered over the keyboard. A small part of his mind that was being honest with himself knew that he had only been waiting for someone to tell him it was okay to sleep, or he'd have collapsed hours ago. "I trust you, Howie." Standing up, abruptly swayed to one side as Howard caught him.

"Kid, this is the last time I'm draggin your ass to a good night's sleep. When we find something, I'll call you."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Italian translations:

1. Vuoi cenare con me? ? Would you have dinner with me?

2. Il conto per favore. ? The bill, please.

Russian translations:

3. Ya po-russky ne govoryu. ? I don't speak Russian.

Okay, that's all I got for now. If I don't get another chapter up in two weeks, e-mail me and tell me I'm a loser who needs to get my act together.


	8. The past comes alive

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

**Note:** I've decided to stop promising updates in X amount of time, because frankly I can't do it. My previous excuses were lame compared to this time around, and I've decided to not even post this until I was sure it wouldn't completely disappoint. To make it short, the delays this time involved one death, one funeral, one wedding, three birthdays, one birth, three midterms, two trips out of town (one for a full week), and writer's block.

**TO MY REVIEWERS:** I had about two paragraphs written, and gave up to take care of, well, life in general. But I check my e-mail one day, and… I had some reviews!? The most compelling ones were the last two:

Bunch-o-Nuts: Please update soon! And sorry I fell behind...

Death Phoenix: Update really really soon!

For a person with writer's block and apathy, that's a kick in the shins. Plus, if my READER feels bad for falling behind, I should feel worse. I also noticed I'm on the watch list of TWENTY-FIVE MEMBERS!?!? Well, damn. I have a duty, now.

Hope this is worth the wait.

**The Perfection of 02**

**By: Maxwell-Yuy**

Air Travel had not improved much over the last century; coach seating still became rapidly occupied by loud, uncultured people, and babies still cried continually. Luckily, Zechs didn't need to bother with commercial flights – not even on pleasure trips. He looked down to the fields of green, orange, yellow and brown below. Europe had always maintained a balance between the beauty of the countryside and the sophistiqué of the cities. The pilot made an announcement that the flight was on schedule, and once again Zechs found himself slightly on edge. He'd have preferred to fly the private jet himself, but protocol would only allow so much.

Though it would never show through his demeanor, he was anticipating seeing Noin again. He was also nervous. Love and war hardly mix, and the combination could be deadly. But for now, he was looking forward to meeting her for dinner. He'd gotten a suite in a separate hotel because he wasn't sure how the evening would turn out. With Noin, he was never sure of anything. They'd gotten together in a sort of sketchy and loose relationship towards the beginning of the war. He cared for her deeply, but he couldn't be sure of his feelings – he couldn't be sure that he could have feelings.

She would be waiting for him, he knew. He had three hours until they would meet for dinner and discuss… whatever it was that they would discuss. Usually meeting Noin calmed him, but this time Zechs was nervous, and couldn't squash the uneasy feeling in his stomach. Maybe, he thought, the fact that four of the Gundam pilots were in OZ custody in the same facility as Treise was creating this undoubtedly wrong sensation in his gut; or maybe it was because he was going to tell Noin tonight. Tonight would make or break whatever bond they shared.

>>>>>

The new and elegant restaurant on Friedrichstrasse by the Old Brandenburg Gate was like something plucked out of a history book and updated to meet modern needs. Built only months earlier, the establishment was in the Neoclassical style, something a man with all too much money dreamed up while hopping historical museums. Circular Corinthian columns, white and clean, stood vigil at the heavy bronze doors. As they entered, Noin looked up in the foyer to view the vaulted ceiling. She wasn't used to the elegance of her surroundings; she had been brought up in a middle class home, and since leaving had spent most of her time training or in the field. Even in the opulent palaces of Treise Kushrenada, as well as the Peacecraft estates, she'd been focused on her duty, not pleasure.

The matredeé recognized Zechs and ushered them to their reserved seats. Ever a gentlemen, Zechs pulled out her chair as Noin sat, but her attention was more focused on the coffered ceiling and gilded moldings. She would occupy herself with everything she could in order to delay the inevitable conversation. She was going to tell Zechs tonight. Tonight would make or break whatever bond they shared.

>>>>>

The night vision sniper scope picked up on Zechs and Noin easily as they entered the restaurant on Friedrichstrasse. Duo knew he was lucky the Sweepers managed to pinpoint Zechs in Berlin. The only thing left to do was wait for them to leave. Once Zechs was out in the open, he'd cripple the Oz officer and demand to know the location of his friends. As much as he wanted the man dead, it could wait until his comrades were in safe hands.

Though the other pilots might consider him impatient by nature, Duo had no problem waiting to acquire his target. His life on the streets coupled with G's long training sessions had made him as patient as the dead. Getting more comfortable, Duo stretched out on the roof of the building across from the restaurant. Even if he wouldn't let go of his hold on the rifle, or take his eye off the scope, he could take up a position that wouldn't make his limbs fall asleep anytime soon.

Checking the time displayed on his scope, he noted that dinner had now progressed a good hour. "Not long now, Zechs…" he breathed.

"Not long indeed."

Closing his eyes, Duo felt the familiar sensation of a cool metal barrel trained on his figure. He could almost feel it on his skin, though the memories that conjured that impression were older than the war. Loosening his grip on the rifle, he brought his hands up and stood with his back to the enemy. "Agent Kefflar, I presume. Four years training stealth operations under Captain Domes of Oz Special Forces. Almost two years in the field. Lone agent, non-partnered. Single, with a girlfriend in the L3 cluster… L3 01967X, to be exact. Born on Earth in Slovenia to an American and an Australian, raised in Hungary, and currently Oz's most deadly assassin."

"You know a lot about me."

"I know that you blew your cover five hours ago as I trailed Zechs from Schoenefeld Airport. You just haven't learned to blend in with foreign crowds. And your German accent is lousy."

A growl was his only response as the barrel of the gun was pressed to the back of his head. "And what are you going to do now, 02?" The barrel dug further into his scalp and Duo could feel his hair tugging and beginning to tangle.

"Watch the hair. You mess it up, and you're a dead man."

Floored by Duo's audacity, Kefflar grabbed his shoulder with a free left hand and pulled the pilot closer. Leaning into him, gun still trained on Duo's head, he whispered into his ear, "I'll do whatever I want to that pretty hair of yours." The hand and on Duo's shoulder slipping around the front and slowly snaking its way across his chest to the right shoulder, he continued, "My mission is to eliminate the threat against Marquise. I was never instructed on what method to use." Lips brushing softly against his ear, he breathed, "I will kill you."

"No," came a firm and resound voice. "You won't kill me. I am destined to be killed by 01."

The deadly and serious tone in Duo's voice sent the agent into a stupor, which was all he needed. Spinning, Duo kicked him in the groin and swiftly dislocated his arm and stole his gun. "It's silly, really. Oz should have known better than to send a chameleon sharp shooter to dispose of me, especially in hand-to-hand. The god of death isn't so easily taken down."

Quivering on the ground, Kefflar could only watch in horror as his own gun was turned on him. Duo shot him between the eyes. "Useless," he muttered. Turning back to his position, he paused. Something was wrong, and it wasn't the body on the rooftop behind him. Looking around, he spotted a dark figure approaching from the rooftop entrance.

Slow, sharp claps met his ears as the figure approached. Once in the light, the man clasped his hands together and gave Duo a once over. "Well now, mister, turn'd out betta than I'd expected. You sho you from L2? Naw, 'ourse you are, you's got them killer instincts in ya."

It was his dialect and his look that threw Duo off. There was something familiar about the way he spoke, something vague and somehow so clear, that reminded him of his past. He man's hair, worn shaggy, as though styled to look like he'd just rolled out of bed, was a grey-brown Duo knew he'd never forget. But it was his eyes that captured his attention. Before Duo knew it, he was lost in a sea of grey-blue that clouded his mind and sent him reeling toward a past he'd kept well hidden. Those eyes he'd seen so long ago, that had given him a reason to hope, were now in front of him once again. Those eyes that left him, that died and lost their luster, which left him alone and lost for so long now, belonged to the man standing on the roof with him.

He swallowed. "Pardon me, sir, but do I know you?"

"Not but through reputation, boy. You an' I, we've a friend in commun."

"A friend…" His voice had drifted off into a slight haze, and though still on alert, he wasn't sure if he could hurt the man before him, not if he had to look at his eyes. "Who do you know who is our common acquaintance?" He hid a cringe, knowing that his voice sounded less confident than he had hoped for.

The stranger smirked. "Why, what wuz it y'all called 'im? If I rememba right, which I can assure you I do, y'all called 'im Solo."

Duo was sure that his heart has stopped beating. The hair, the eyes, the accent, the clear and distinct accent that set the strangerapart from the himself… it was all so clear, he couldn't believe he had doubted his first impression. Now he needed more answers. "So, stranger, you knew Solo?"

The man chuckled, and replied, "I ain't no friend of Solo, but 'is real name, that wuz--"

"Don't!" he interrupted, "I don't want to know. Please."

Sensing the urgency of the request, the stranger paused as if to consider, and continued, "I knew 'im before he wuz called Solo. 'Ere, take a look." He reached into his pocket and held out what appeared to be a photo, but Duo squashed down his curiosity and after a moment the man withdrew the offered photograph. "Dunn wanna see? Just as well I s'pose."

"Who are you?"

"An employee," he said, stressing the first and last syllables of the second word, "of a Mister Kooshrenaydeh. When I found out just who ya were, I reckoned I outta send 'im a letter and volunteer my services. Afta all, I'm the only one who got anything on yo past, boy. Me brotha tol' me enough ta know ya when I saw ya."

"Solo was an orphan," he said quickly, "he didn't have any family."

"Wuzn't always like that. He done and run away, an' the ol' man an' ma didn't wanna hear from 'im again."

Overcome with anger, Duo demanded, "why are you here and what did you tell the General?"

"I didn't tell 'im nothin'! I just said I had a brother, an' he an' you were close. That'd it'd be my pleasure ta get rid of ya, since you're the reason he stayed on tha streets." The man saw the glimmer in Duo's eyes, one of an emotion he could not place, but knew had something to do with disbelief. "Didn' know he an' I coulda gotten a place of our own, did ya? Ma an' Pa died, an' I asked 'im if he wanted to come home. But that boy done an' told me he couldn't leave this sweet lil' thing behind. He wouldn't abandon his Duo. He stayed on them streets an' eight months later he was dead."

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" Voice breaking, Duo screamed on, not caring whether his voice drifted downward to the streets. "I have enough of a cross to bear without you adding to it! I don't have time for you, I finally made new friends, FINALLY, and they, too, will die if I don't help them. I don't want to lose anyone else!" Duo was so enraged, he didn't see the fear and surprise in the other's eyes. "I loved your brother, damnit! I did everything possible to save him! EVERYTHING! If you were so close to him, why'd he never mention ya? Why'd he insist he was an orph'n? Why'd he choose me over you? I don't fuckin' know, okay?" Lunging forward, he swiped up the gun from the dead hit man lying on the rooftop between then, and gun in hand, he continued softly, "I don't want to ever see your face again. D' ya hear me?"

In a flash, Duo pistol whipped the man across the face, and the other crumbled to the ground. Breathing heavily, he stared down at him and threw down the gun. "I ain't killin the closest thing to Solo there is left in this world."

Scrambling to his post, Duo looked down in time to watch Noin leave the restaurant by herself. Quickly scanning the street, he saw Zechs get into a car. The driver pulled away. "No! Damnit!" Grabbing his berretta from a holster at the small of his back, he ran to the fire escape ladder and slid down to the alley below. If Zechs was no longer a target for tonight, then Lieutenant Noin would have to take his place. She would tell Duo where Zechs was. And then, she would die.

A dark shadow followed Noin down Friedrichstrasse. The streets were by no means deserted, but there was no reason to throw caution to the wind by simply shifting and taking cover in the light crowds. Taking care to avoid street lights, Duo slunk into a corner as Noin crossed over to Duo's side of the street and made a left down Unter Den Linden. If there was a decent amount of pedestrians, there were even more cars and motorcycles on the busier street. Duo began to wonder if Noin suspected anything and chose her route in hopes that Duo wouldn't try anything with a public audience.

Noin walked until she reached the Brandenburg Gate. Duo silently watched as the Lieutenant pulled out a cell phone and made a quick call. Was she calling reinforcements? It was a likely scenario, and one Duo wasn't going to chance. While Noin was distracted with her call, Duo slunk into position. He couldn't hear what the girl was saying. Noin was speaking lowly and urgently. A moment after the phone call ended, Duo greeted Noin from behind with a knife to her throat.

>>>>>

Noin was still reeling in shock. Put their relationship on hold? Zechs wanted to put their relationship on hold?! After all that time, after all the long waiting, after… after what happened. She was going to tell him tonight. It was so important, and Zechs ruined it for her. She couldn't even think as she tore out of the restaurant and down the street, not quite knowing where she was going. And after breaking the news… he got a call and left for 'business.' How could she have been so stupid? Tonight was supposed to make them closer, not further apart. But she couldn't keep things to herself anymore. Zechs had to know.

Quickly pulling her cell phone from her purse, she stopped under the Brandenburg Gate and dialed Zech's private number. When voicemail kicked in, she had to suppress a scream. She didn't want it to be like this. The beep sounded.

"Zechs? It's me. I didn't want to do this over the phone. I had been hoping to tell you in person, at dinner tonight, but…" her voice faded off, and she paused a moment. "I needed to make sure I knew for sure, you know? I couldn't jump to conclusions, especially with you concerned. It's just… shit. I'm rambling, aren't I? I'm standing under a monument, I'm shaken to the core, I'm rambling, ME, rambling, and I'm pregnant. You're a daddy, baby. Congratulations and I hope you enjoy our 'apart time,' as you so eloquently put it." Hanging up, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as a knife touched her throat and an arm trapped her.

"Hello Lieutenant. I've had a hell of a week, and an awful night, so I'll make this short and sweet." Duo's hold tightened, and the knife pressed closer to her skin, "Tell me where Zechs is."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Worth the wait? Review it, if you like. Every time I think, "I'm not going to finish this" I get a review, and I keep going.


	9. Take your own advice

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

**Note: **It took a while, but it's here. I hope it's worth the wait. I promised back to back action a while ago, but that was a lie. I wanted plot development time. Next chapter has to have action, though, doesn't it? Noin's turn. Bwwahahahaaa. Anyway, I'm off to Paris for two weeks. Christmas in Paris will be great. Maybe I'll get some ideas for a new setting…

**TO MY REVIEWERS:** You're insane. I love you. I have 32 people with me on their watch list. Thirty-feakin-two. That's intense. It's all cause you guys keep me going with this story.

**Shout-out's to**: Death Phoenix, Bunch-o-Nuts, and camillian, my avid readers from day one who I adore. Avid Reader (who I guess is… an… avid reader?), Fire-Ice-Henna, Tara Ivanhov, Yuurisa and karrafear, who put up with my "cliffhangers" and my confusion.

New Dye: Duo going after Zechs is a bit extreme, but it's sorta explained in this installment.

Catoblepas: That's freaky. Don't bear my children.

Touga: I was editing this next chapter when you reviewed to order me to write another. I was going to e-mail you and tell you I'm posting soon, but you didn't leave contact info.

The Perfection of 02

By: Maxwell-Yuy

The tension between the four pilots was nearly tangible. No one had spoken for hours, maybe even longer; they couldn't tell. Meals were always the same, and though Heero doubted they'd been detained for more than nine days, he couldn't be certain. As time pressed on, escape from the inside became less likely. Heero, who had determined long ago that all his ideas of escape were useless, had begun to entertain himself with other matters. It came as a shock to the others to hear him speak of his on volition.

"He loves records, you know."

Heero's whisper was deafening, and cut the silence in the room with a jagged acuteness. Even more to surprise, Trowa was the one to respond. "Records?"

"Yes," Heero continued, pausing for a brief moment. "And it's an interesting relationship, because he's just like them. He's old, and fragile, and he spins in circles when he tries to tell his stories, but sometimes, you have to play him backwards to get the hidden message and unlock the truth."

Quatre couldn't believe he was hearing anything deep or emotional from the perfect soldier. "Heero, are you talking about Duo?"

"From what I've read about the things, if you scratch a record, it never plays correctly again. If you leave it out or throw it carelessly into storage, it can get warped and damaged for good. I think I may have scratched him. I think I ignored him too much, and threw him too carelessly away so that I could deal with him another time. I'm afraid of that. I'm afraid I tarnished a song that is lovely and pure. I shouldn't have doubted him, and I'm a fool. I should have let him come on the mission."

Wu-Fei was breathless. Who would have thought that Heero could say so much, let alone something so profound and so personal. "You're not a fool, Heero. He was injured, you know that."

"No, the concussion wasn't as bad as I'd made it out to be. He was just fine." Heero's head tilted towards the floor, his eyes cast down in embarrassment, or shame, he wasn't certain of his own emotions. "He was fully qualified to join us. I just--" He cut himself short and let out a small sigh. "You know this room isn't under any surveillance. Treize seems to think it's dishonorable to spy on us."

Quatre could feel a pain coming from Heero he'd only felt once before, after Heero had killed a large number of civilians in a mission mishap. "You just what, Heero?"

At first, the Wing pilot didn't answer. But just as Quatre was giving up the hope of finding the answer to his question, Heero spoke softly and weakly. Voice unsteady, he replied, "I didn't want him to get hurt."

Heero's words held a tone of finality to them, and Quatre knew better than to press the matter, but Wu-Fei wasn't Quatre, and he wanted answers. "Do you have no faith in him? He's a member of our team, he can fend for himself!"

The room was quiet again, and the Chinese pilot fumed silently, giving Heero time before he demanded a response. If Heero really thought that Duo needed constant supervision, Wu-Fei was certain that Heero was no longer fit to be the group's makeshift leader. After all the time the pilots spent together, and all the times each of them had bailed one or more out of hopeless situations, all of them had grown to trust each other. To think that Heero could simply throw all of their hard work to the wind was disgusting.

"It was a dangerous mission, Chang. None of us were close enough to back each other up. If he'd gotten hurt…" Heero paused again, searching for the words to use, "I couldn't help him. And had he been on the mission, we wouldn't be here."

"Heero…" Quatre whispered.

"I can't always be there to guard Quatre's back, Heero," Trowa began. "But we work that out. We trust one another, and we know we'll do everything we can to make it out of our missions and back to each other."

As Quatre blushed to himself, a sure of red-hot anger rushed through Heero. "That has no bearing on Duo and I!"

Without a hint of hesitation, Trowa answered, "I think it does."

Quatre and Wu-Fei were becoming even more interested in the conversation. Briefly, Quatre compared the feeling to that of sitting in on one of his sister's sleepovers and listening to the 'private' gossip that went around in a tight circle of friends. Not sure if he should be amused or embarrassed by the image in his head of he and his fellow pilots gossiping and telling secrets in their pajamas while eating marshmallows and drinking hot cocoa, the blonde pilot remained silent.

A waterfall of emotions and understanding began to hit Wu-Fei dead on. For a moment, he was both stunned and speechless. Heero, through vehemently denying that his relations with Duo were anything like that between Trowa and Quatre, had just cemented the opposite. Heero wanted Duo. He cared for him more than he was willing to admit. Now that the Chinese pilot was certain of Heero's sentiments, he cursed himself for not taking action sooner. He had known that Duo loved Heero. It was clear with the way that only Heero's words could truly hurt him, and how it was always when Heero was away on a dangerous mission or after an intense fight with the Wing pilot that Duo would pour his soul into training and spar with fervor. Heero had been Duo's catalyst, but the 02 pilot had never for a moment had considered telling the Japanese boy.

If Wu-Fei had known before that his friends had a mutual attraction, he would have pushed them in the direction of admitting their feelings to each other. He himself knew the toll of keeping love for another secret. When he'd married Merian, he didn't love her, and vowed never to tell her otherwise. When he grew to love her, he stubbornly refused to tell the girl. When she died, all he could think of were missed opportunities and the subtle ways she reached out to him with a desperate want for the simple approval he denied her until the end. Now, after losing Merian and his clan, Wu-Fei had learned to love again. Duo was his balance, his friend, and though he wouldn't admit it directly, his brother. Duo took him under his wing and pushed Wu-Fei into socializing, laughing, and chasing him around safe houses with an anger he didn't even feel in battle. In turn, Wu-Fei trained Duo in the swordsmanship of his clan, taught him meditation, and gave him an outlet for his emotions. Even if he wasn't fond of some of Duo's pranks, he usually found them humorous.

He was going to tell Duo. Though inviting him to become a member of his clan should have made it obvious, he was going to come clean and leave out the implied, and tell Duo he made everyday life something to look forward to living. He would tell him he felt like he had family and sibling rivalry. He would tell him he was the little brother he never had. Because when it came down to it, Wu-Fei never told his loved ones how he felt, and they all paid the price. Hiding from emotion was the weakness he saw in Duo and Heero, and he refused to sink to their level.

Wu-Fei's reverie was interrupted by a hard, resolute voice, which brought him back to the conversation at hand. Briefly, he wondered why it took Heero so long to refute Trowa's last comment.

"You have no understanding of this subject, Trowa. You may think you do, but you know nothing if the people involved and nothing of the circumstances."

"You honestly think I know nothing about you and Duo? You think I know nothing about love, about war, about friendship and camaraderie? I didn't. For a long time I didn't, but I do now. I'm new to this, Heero. But I know more than you ever have about the human aspects of war." Trowa was raising the ante and calling Heero's bluff. "I don't know what he sees in you."

"What?"

Ignoring Heero's inquiry, Trowa continues, "I've told you before, and I'll tell you again. Someone once told me to follow my emotions. It's good advice, and it's brought me pain, yes, but it's brought me so much happiness that it cancels out the pain. You should consider following your emotions. Take your own advice."

Heero remained silent. He didn't know how to answer Trowa, nor did he really want to. Hypocrisy was not a characteristic that the prefect soldier was supposed to embody. Regardless of his personal desire to remain quiet, Heero knew that he owed an explanation to his comrades. The soldier in him calculated that if he divulged minimum personal detail, he could gain further trust with the other pilots and establish a stronger bond, which could be beneficial in battle and in information exchange. At the same time, the human in Heero, which had been struggling to gain back some control since Duo began to encourage it, reasoned that these pilots were people he could trust. They were his friends, if Heero ever had any. To show any sort of weakness to them would serve to cement that friendship and allow it to build further. Though he was unsure exactly which part of himself he followed, the result was the same. Tell them something.

"I wasn't as good as him." Heero's voice lost all emotion. His words became factual statements, spoken with a dispassion. "My stealth skills lack in comparison. I triggered the alarm system while working his infiltration section. Had he been on the mission, and the alarm not triggered, we all would have gone in and out without detection."

Silence fell upon the room once more.

>>>>>

Knife against her throat, Noin was becoming frightened. Normally, she wouldn't think twice about her current situation, but things were different now. An innocent life lay inside her, and she had to protect herself at all costs in order to protect the child. A sharp voice broke her train of thought, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Did you hear me, Lieutenant? Where is Marquis?"

"I don't know. He just left."

"Bullshit," Duo spat, "you know where he is!"

Noin was beginning to struggle to stay calm. She recognized the cold calculation mixed with bloodlust and desperation in the other's voice. That tone was the tone of a soldier who was ready to kill to get to the end he wanted. "The Lightning Count and I never discuss locations other than rendezvous points. At no given time am I aware of his location when he is not in my presence, other than a possibly city name--"

"Don't lie to me, Lieutenant."

Not trusting her vocal chords, but not trusting Duo not to harm her if she remained silent, Noin spoke in a weakened voice. "I'm not lying. I don't know where he is. Please, let me go. I have no information for you."

Oblivious to his hostage's pleading tone, Duo continued, "I saw you with him. He knows where my comrades are. I want them back."

"Is this why you're here? I heard you were after Zechs." Duo showed no intentions of loosening his grip, so Noin continued. "If you want your friends back, Zechs isn't the only way to get them."

"They're not my friends."

"But you want them back," Noin stated, confused as to why the boy would not admit to friendship with his fellow pilots. She had always thought the Gundam pilots were close. "You're going through so much trouble for them..."

"Their skills are useful, and they are needed to win the war. Oz is keeping them under strict lockdown. There's no paper trail, not even an electronic one. No one knows they've been caught, other than a select few. I will find Zechs and relieve my comrades of Oz's custody."

Something about the way Duo spoke struck Noin as odd. She'd not had many encounters with pilot 02, but she knew enough about him to know that Duo was usually jovial or sarcastic. The callousness with which the Gundam pilot now spoke rubbed the Lieutenant the wrong way. Something wasn't right, and although she didn't care much for her enemy, she knew enough about combat to know that any change in an enemy was something to consider and look into. Noin had a sinking feeling that the alterations in Duo were not in her own favour.

Duo was slightly surprised how easily his last words came out of his mouth. Comrades, not friends. He almost believed it. He wanted to believe it. If the other pilots were just his brothers in arms -- no. "Brothers" implied too much of a personal bond. If they were simply comrades, fellow soldiers who lucked into being his allies, perhaps they wouldn't reach the same fate as everyone else he cared for. Seeing Solo's brother brought to life his previous fears. He has always been wary of making friends. Ever since the plague of L2 and the burning of the church, Duo was convinced that he was the cause of death to all of his loved ones, because he was the only thing they had in common. Maybe if he stopped thinking of the other pilots as having a personal association and started to think of them only on a professional level, they could be spared. Besides, they hated him. Ever since he lost his cool and told them he was from L2, everyone had been weary around him. They didn't care. He shouldn't care, either.

Noin spoke carefully, sure not to press her throat any closer to the blade that held her in place. "Are you planning to kill me, 02?"

"If I don't get the information I want, yes. I am."

"That doesn't seem your style, 02. I always thought you tried to minimize your kills."

Duo tensed, "I kill anyone I damn well want to kill! Where is Marquis? He has some information for me." Without warning, Duo threw Noin into the Brandenburg Gate. The abrupt contact with the limestone sent the Lieutenant's head spinning, but instincts had her regaining her balance in no time. Thankful her training never left her unarmed, Noin grabbed for a knife she hid attached to her thy under her knee skirt. It was the first time she got a good look at the knife Duo had used to hold her captive. The pilot was holding a SOG, and Noin was well aware that the knife her enemy possessed was only used to kill humans.

Painfully aware that late night drivers seemed to sense the danger in the air and steered away from them, Noin waited for Duo to make a mistake. She knew the only sure way to survive was to catch Duo off guard. He seemed to be watching Noin for a similar mistake, though the young soldier's demeanor radiated confidence that Noin would be the one to fall.

Though scared for her child, the Lieutenant had no inclination to inform her opponent of her pregnancy. There was no sympathy in combat, no compassion in war. It was survival of the fittest, and Darwin would be proud. Inching forward, Noin started to distance herself from the gate. Duo watched like a hawk, following her every move and countering it with his own. The two circled each other under the designer lights that cast long, dark shadows of the two soldiers onto the monument behind them.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I just found out that in the preface to my first chapter, I promised the possibility of a mech sequence. I have no experience in writing this, but I'm willing if there is popular demand. What do you think?


	10. A little drumming

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

**Note:** Wow. That took a while. School's been crazy, work's been crazy, and I have several loved ones seriously ill. Writing was not a top priority.

**I am sorry for the lack of breaks between scenes. is a bastard with this stuff.**

**TO MY REVIEWERS:** I can't believe how many people have supported this story. I would give shout outs, but I know I would miss someone. I would like to extend my apologies to the several people I promised a chapter to "soon" and failed to deliver. I never meant to lie to you. I'd be writing well, and BAM! I just couldn't write more. I kept losing my plot.

Thanks, everyone. If I haven't lost my touch, and you like this installment, I'll continue. I think I found my plot again – and this time I wrote myself notes so I don't forget.

**The Perfection of 02**

**By: Maxwell-Yuy**

* * *

Scared, Noin approached Duo with caution. Loosely holding out her knife in a non-aggressive manner, she said "02, we don't need to--"

Swiftly, Duo moved in and sliced the back of Noin's hand. Recoiling, the Oz officer grabbed at her hand and held it to her chest, shooting her assailant a shocked and painful look. "I don't have your information! This is useless!"

The longhaired pilot glared at the woman in front of him. "Killing you will catch Zechs' attention. Perhaps _he_ will seek _me_ out."

Clutching her knife with a strong right-handed grip, Noin stepped forward and slashed at Duo, who leaned back and easily evaded the move. Quickly, Noin used her full body strength and leapt at her opponent with a forceful stab. Shifting to his side, Duo grabbed her wrist and forearm. The two struggled for dominance. Timing himself, he let go of Noin, and the woman fell forward and away from the younger pilot, her left arm flailing out and then reaching forward to break her fall. Grace appeared to abandon her as she stumbled towards the street.

Cursing her skirt, but thankful that its free flow allowed her swift movement, Noin caught her balance, stood, and rushed him.

Seeing the knife flash towards his head, Duo once again grabbed Noin's arm, and then deftly took hold of the other, forcing the hand with the knife towards her neck and her other arm toward himself. If Duo could overpower her, he could either turn his enemy's knife on the Lieutenant, or send her falling towards himself and into her own blade.

Using all her strength, Noin broke Duo's arm lock and slashed the braided pilot across the shoulder. Not a second later, his knife descended upon her, cutting into her cheek. The unexpected pain sent her stumbling backwards again, clutching the side of her face. Glancing upward, she saw Duo duck behind a column.

His shoulder was pounding in time with his pulse. The Lieutenant had cut deeply, but hadn't severed any important veins. Blood loss would be a hindrance, though, if not treated, so Duo had to finish this battle as soon as he could manage. He had not planned for Noin's competency in knife fighting, and was enjoying every minute of the battle. Every slash across the Oz Officer's body would be a little bit of fun.

* * *

Eastern Europe always made Zechs weary. He'd always found it difficult to remember names and directions when there were few vowels in a language. Unconsciously, he smoothed out a few wrinkles in his trousers. Colonel Une would be expecting him shortly, and years of noble upbringing had instilled in him unbreakable habits of poise and etiquette. It was uncommon for the Lady to request his physical presence for a debriefing, and he assumed the news she would deliver to him would have something to do with the gundam pilots in captivity or the pilot on the loose.

Staring out the window of his private charter car, he sadly noted that the train was taking him further from Noin with each passing second. The evening had not gone as planned. No sooner did he tell her of his reluctance to take their relationship further at their current pace, then the Colonel called him to report to Prague immediately. He never had the chance to see her reaction, nor the chance to fully explain himself – if she had asked him for an explanation. Sighing, he leaned back and closed his eyes, determined to rid his mind of thoughts of Noin, and clear his thoughts so that he might focus on more pressing matters.

* * *

Approaching the column with caution, Noin stared warily towards where her target remained hidden. Every cell in her body urged her to take hold of the moment and run while Duo was hidden. She knew it would be the last chance during this battle for her to retreat and she knew it was her motherly instincts kicking in. She couldn't say she wanted to save her baby – she didn't have one yet. But for a woman who never thought she would get a chance to bring life into the world instead of taking it, preserving that chance was her universe. Rationality made her approach the column instead of running away. If the pilot 02 had tracked her down already, he could easily do it again. Though scared presently, there was something in the back of her mind reminding her that if she left, she would never know when the next strike would come. Dying when she least expected it would be far more terrifying than putting up a fight. Slipping out of her heels, she continued forward and paused a few feet before her target. She spread her feet apart in a fighting stance, and waited for her enemy to make the first move.

Behind the column, Duo wasn't tending to his wound, but contemplating the quickest way to end the battle and get the information he needed. His instincts as a soldier were so ingrained in his personality that planning the fight to come occurred as a flash in his mind – incomplete images and thoughts that would make no sense to anyone other than Duo himself. Not even Heero could make sense of them.

He stopped that train of thought before it derailed.

Calmly stepping out of his hiding place, Duo saw the knife coming at him in mid air, and let it pierce into his arm. He pulled the handle, which was flush against his skin, and removed the knife. He looked up at Noin through his bangs. "You need to learn to throw better. Your release is off." The other clearly couldn't believe what had happened. It occurred to Duo that the Lieutenant had expected to hit her target, and now the woman was weaponless. "Are you, or are you not going to tell me where Zechs is located?"

Noin felt her heart beating on her ribcage. She didn't kill the pilot, and now she was cornered. She had to live. "He left to Copenhagen -"

"WRONG!"

Anger flared up inside of the Oz officer. "What is it that you want from me?" she shouted, "I told you I don't know where he's gone!"

A low, deadly voice answered, "I want to find the other gundam pilots. I can't win this war on my own." Duo chuckled, and continued, "well, I could, but it would be far too messy."

For a split second, Noin's brain shut down. Pilot 02 thought he could win the war alone? Almost wishing she'd run when she had the chance, she whispered, "please. Please, I don't have your information. Let me go."

"You're a soldier!" The sternness of Duo's reply sent a shock through Noin's system. "Soldiers do not ASK to be released from their duty! It is your job to fight me and you knew what you were getting into when you entered the forces. Your weakness is unforgivable, and will not be forgotten. You don't even deserve to wear the stripes of Oz. No enemy of mine should be so meek."

Noin tensed as the long-haired pilot raised a hand, and tensed as a knife was thrown to her feet. _To her feet!_ She had another chance!

"Fight me like a worthy Oz soldier should fight."

Adrenaline pumping, Noin crouched down, took her knife, and lunged at her opponent. A slash came to her face, and she backed away from it, pushed forward, and using one arm to hold Duo away, stabbed her knife into the pilot's thy and pulled out her blade. Using the full force of her body, she shoved him into the column he had previously been hidden behind, and went for the kill.

With some of the wind knocked out of him, Duo saw her advancement and reached out to stop the other's knife. They struggled together, Noin desperately trying to push her knife into him, while he held her at bay and looked for an opening. She found one first, and punched Duo across the face with her free hand. No sooner did her fist meet flesh than he kicked her behind the knees and sent her stumbling. Noin jumped up and sprang forward. She pushed the gundam pilot away, causing Duo to fall back against another column.

Regaining his footing, Duo shook off his slight lightheadedness and brought himself to stand on his feet. Noin would die tonight.

* * *

The medical tents were flooded with patients. A bomb, reports said, had triggered prematurely and devastated a commercial zone just blocks from a government facility downtown. Sally and her crew had been working frantically to save as many lives as they could, and the patient inflow was just now simmering down. Pulling off her latex gloves, she tossed them in a bin and walked away from a six-year-old patient. Her mother was dead, and her father was being treated for burns. They'd been at a travel agency looking for an escape from the war.

Vigorously rubbing her face, she stepped out of a tent and into the sunlight. This wasn't even her job. She was supposed to be working with soldiers, not civilians. But as a doctor, she couldn't turn her back on those in need. And though she knew in her heart she was making a difference caring for civilian casualties, her gut told her that she would be a greater help to the war effort on the front lines.

Lost in thought and berating herself for how the war and working exclusively for soldiers caused her to casually dismiss the lives of civilians, she nearly jumped at the sudden vibration at her side. Instinctively she reached for her pager, but realized the source of the disturbance was in fact her cell phone. Only a handful of people had her number…

Instantly she grabbed it and answered, "Po here."

"Hiya, doc. It's Howard." His voice was off, as usual. Something was always amiss when he called her. Usually it involved heavy casualties – something she was not mentally prepared for at the moment.

"What's going on? You never call unless there's an emergency."

"Well, there is something…" Howard trailed off for a moment, and Sally began to wonder what he could be getting at before he continued with what seemed like a change of subject. "Have you seen the Kid lately?"

"You mean Duo?" She hated Howard's nickname for the most rambunctious of the pilots. She understood that Duo was the grandson Howard should have had, if he'd had children, but to call him Kid was trivializing his part in the war – or at least she thought so. Duo didn't seem to mind. "Yes. I saw him a few days ago. Why?"

She could hear a light tapping as Howard began to drum his fingers on something nearby. She'd seen the old man do it in person when he was on the phone and uncomfortable with the way a conversation was heading.

"I saw the Kid, too. He seemed... different. Was he like that with you?"

Sally wanted to say 'yes' but she was hesitant. She needed to know exactly what Howard meant, or the man would take her answer face value. She knew from experience that he would do this even when they might be thinking of entirely different subjects. "What do you mean by 'different,' Howard?"

"Cold. Distant, I guess. Like he-" he stopped. "Like… like he wasn't himself. Like he was changing for the worse. The life in his eyes – it was gone."

"He's just driven to find his friends, Howard." Even as she said it, her words seemed forced and ludicrous to her ears.

A prolonged silence made Sally as uncomfortable as the man on the other end tapped rapidly on what was likely his desk. Finally, Howard spoke. "It's drive, yes. A lame excuse but I'll give you that. But it wasn't just the usual Duo being driven to get something done." He'd used his real name; what came next couldn't be good. "When I went to see him in his quarters, he wasn't right. Yeah, he was social but tired on deck with the boys, but in his room? He was snapping at me. And it didn't have his usual playfulness. He pulled his gun on me and never apologized. He always apologizes."

Sally processed Howard's words. Not saying you're sorry for a reflex action was not a sign of some problem extending further than stress or rudeness, but it was odd for a boy who was always nice – to certain people. A need to mention Duo's attack on her nurse, or the boy's complete lack of emotion during his six hours awake in surgery without anesthesia was immediately squashed by her habitual need to stay on topic. There would be another time to discuss disturbing behaviors other than pulling guns on allies. "He did the same to me. Pulled his gun on me and demanded his leave. He said something to the effect of his friends needing him."

"But that's just it!" He was rushing now, "He didn't say 'friends' with me. He's always referred to the others as his friends. At least, he did before anyone else. He called them 'comrades' and was so… confused. Confused, but also heartless – like he didn't care. Like they were just pawns he needed to win the war."

"Howard," she began in protest. He interrupted her.

"Doc, I have to tell you about Death."

Sally was thoroughly confused. "What? What does that--" He interrupted her again.

"Did you know Duo calls himself Death?"

This was getting aggravating. "No, I didn't!" Sally snapped leaning on a table packed with medical supplies, "but many soldiers have an alter--"

"This is different."

Sally wanted to scream.

"Doc," he continued, "it's just different." His voice became soft. "I'm worried."

Something in his tone caused Sally to calm down. If Howard said it was serious, then he had to have a good reason. She definitely wasn't looking forward to the conversation to come. She looked down, surprised to see she was tapping her fingers on the supply table.

* * *

That's it for now. Like I always say, if not for reviews, I'd have quit this story a long time ago. Sorry it's a short chapter, but if I didn't put something out, I think you would all have my head on a platter. 

And I'm getting a brand new laptop. That should help speed things up.


	11. Death Noticed

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within the series.

**Note:** Holy crap, it's been a long time! But now that everyone important who was taking my time and care died, and school's out, I'm able to try and finish what I started almost two years ago to the day. My new computer's not very nice with the html previews on so I am once again going in and fixing code. If there are problems, I'll spot them tomorrow, or later today.

**TO MY REVIEWERS:** I'm not sorry it took so long - my life was insane this last year, but I am sorry for leaving my reviewers so abruptly. The support I've had for this story is overwhelming, and there are so many people I want to thank for their encouraging reviews I know I'm going to miss some. For the people I e-mailed: you already know how much your encouragement and feedback meant to me. Here's a **small attempt to thank the others:**

Tempus Mori: I bet you didn't think I'd update today when you posted your review!

Katleap, Duo-Groupie, Kyokorain, Shini: I'm sorry it took so long. I'm sorry I let you down.

Ronin101: Wow. "Sucked into hours of reading" is a great encouragement.

MoonlightGoddess08: Your post made me write a whole quarter of this story over winter break!

KyorjroHeart: bbwwahahaha! I love your evil mind )

Sailor C. Ryoko: You PRINTED this? What is it? Something like 47 pages? Wow.

Einld, Serenity Maxwell, Cerulean Waters, Amaya, Camillian, Bomb-O-Maniac, RavynOwl, Moonlit Eyes, DeathsDragon, Dark Devotions: You all deserve hugs.

**The Perfection of 02**

**By: Maxwell-Yuy**

Duo was curled up on deck watching the moon when Howard approached him. Every night he went out to give that hunk of rock the most penetrating gaze in the Earth Sphere, and every night he ignored Howard when he would check on him.

"Hey, Howie." A soft voice called.

Okay, almost every night.

The old man nodded in response, even though the teen's back was to him. The mood was set for bonding, and he wasn't going to ruin it with silly remarks. He looked to the moon as they sat in a warm blanket of silence. He would watch the orb in the sky until Duo chose to lift the blanket and expose them to whatever cold realities are ordered up with late-night wartime talks. He wanted to believe that the young pilot would have something introspective and calming to say, but things rarely dared to cross that path.

The air was changing as the ocean swept cold moisture across the expanse of night. If he didn't know better, Howard would have expected Duo to be shivering by now; but the boy was tough. Even if he was cold, he wouldn't let anyone suspect him of what he considered to be a weakness. It had been six years of off the record friendship and only a few weeks on the record, but the kid might as well have been his own.

"Howie," he began so softly the old man thought he'd imagined him saying his name, "what do you think happens to someone who's died?"

He raised his eyebrows and thought for a second. "You mean like an afterlife; a heaven and hell?"

"No... No, I mean-" he stopped to collect his thoughts. "I mean... like I died."

Howard considered this for a minute. Duo was always saying cryptic things, but he'd never heard him say something quite like this. "What do you mean, Duo? You died?"

He was quiet for a minute. If there was anyone he could trust, it was Howard; but that didn't make it any easier. He wasn't fond of letting people know about his past. "It's just... I think I died a long time ago, you know? When everyone I knew did. I had a best friend, and we always said we were the same person. Two halves of a whole. And he died. It was my fault, I..." He stopped. "Sometimes it's like I killed them, and I can't remember. Like in battle, when I'm sucked in, and everything is an instant reaction, I don't think and I can't remember what happened. Maybe it was me. Maybe..." Some crew members were walking across deck, and Duo stopped again to wait to continue until the men were out of range.

Once the crew was back inside, he whispered, "You know what, Howie? It doesn't matter."

"Duo--"

"Really, I should get going. It's stupid, right? I can't be dead. I'm here, after all..."

"Kid, it couldn't have been your fault. I read your profile... or what you had of one before the Doc destroyed all it's traces. It was bad luck. The things that happened were terrible, but they would have happened anyway."

"You don't have to lie for me, Howie."

"I wouldn't lie about this."

"Yeah you would. You lie all the time to your crew and your superiors and anyone who asks too many questions. So why would this be different?"

Howard remained silent as the kid stood and blended into his surroundings, disappearing from his sight. Faintly, he heard him as he disappeared, "I am the bringer of death. I am death incarnate. You should keep away from me... for your own good."

----------

"Howard," Sally began, "that's not substantial evidence for what you're implying here. You're trying to lead me to believe he channels the bad parts of his psyche into an entirely separate alter-ego, just because--"

"That's not all, Sally. You haven't seen him in his Death mode. He's terrifying. Have you seen that 01 kid flip out? Or even 04 on the Zero System?"

"Yes," she said shortly, annoyed with the old man.

"They're normal compared to Duo. They're at least reasonable, they remember, they can attone. He... I don't know. I thought I was close to him, but there's so much I don't know. But I'm telling you this, if you trust me at all, trust me now."

Rubbing her forehead, Sally took a moment to digest Howard's concerns. After a pause, she used her no-nonsense, low and firm voice. "Is he a danger to the missions?"

"I don't know. There's a chance, and it's not unfounded."

A sense of dread washed over her.

"Do we need to take immediate action?"

"Maybe, I don't know. I think he'll be fine for now. Listen, this is what I can tell you for certain, Sally... right now, he's the best chance we have of finding the other pilots. We can wait to address this, but we have to keep tabs on him. If anything were to happen," he paused. "Well, there's no use in explaining."

Sally felt a vibration at her side, and saw a page to the Emergency tent. "Listen, Howard, I'll keep that in mind. I have to go, but call me if you find out anything."

"Same goes to you." The connection on the doctor's side abruptly ended, and Howard put down the phone and looked around his room. It was going to be a long war.

----------

Having gotten no reaction from the others after admitting his failures on their last mission, Heero spent hours meditating on the facts. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Trowa had a point when he said to follow his emotions. But it wasn't so simple. It was hard enough to admit he cared for Duo, let alone anything else. From what he knew of Trowa and Quatre, the two loved each other. And if they were a model for what love was, then he and Duo didn't fit.

Trowa and Quatre didn't fight or get on each other's nerves. They didn't try to kill each other or constantly pull weapons on one another. The pairs were nothing alike. Heero couldn't remember the last time he went a week without threatening to kill Duo, or the last time they were stuck in a safe house together and didn't fall into an epic argument. Inevitably, he and Duo mixed like magnesium and fire - add them together and a bright and blinding explosion would occur. Surely two people who clashed so often couldn't be remotely close to compatible. Could they?

The whole "opposites attract" idea seemed preposterous. If that was the case, he and Relina would be a great match; and he'd almost rather lose the war than be paired with her forever. And Duo wasn't really his opposite. They were gundam pilots. That alone put the braided energy bag into a select group of four who might understand him. No one else could understand the missions, how much balanced on their performances, how many lives were lost when they failed, or what it was like to have the people you're fighting for turn against you. Duo had seen him at his darkest and not turned away. He didn't even flinch - he always took the time to know him better, even when he tried his best to keep him away. That, perhaps more than anything, made Duo someone who sported a chance of understanding him post-war.

Post-war? Since when did he think about life after the war? He was Heero Yuy, pilot 01, and he was going to die in battle.

As much as he wanted to believe he would die before the end of the war, thinking about Duo was making it harder to have complete faith in his early death. But now was not the time to ponder such things. Now wasn't even the time to be thinking about Duo. Right now he was a prisoner of war, and prisoners of war were supposed to think of means of escape, not how to make things right with --

He stopped that train of thought before it derailed. No more thinking about Duo. He looked to the other pilots and quietly assessed their physical situations. He was making a mental list of who was injured, who was not, who had what skills, and who was the best suited to get them out and back onto the battlefield. But it didn't keep his mind occupied as long as he'd anticipated. He switched to something he knew would take a few hours: reciting every specification of Mobile Suit XXXG-01W, Wing Gundam.

----------

This was getting old fast. Noin had to go down, and she had to go down hard and quickly. Shifting his balance from one foot to the other, Duo waited, calculating the best means of defeating his enemy. Noin was tired and injured, and that was something with which to take advantage; and from the way she held herself, she was readying to take the offensive.

Body language was something Duo learned to pick up quickly on the streets. Solo always told him the natural gift he had for reading tension, movement, relaxation, and reaction would save his life.

He'd been taking the fight seriously, but there was a difference between being serious and losing himself in the fray. Duo felt the switchover: a feeling washing over his body through his veins and rushing with his blood. The feeling was cold and hot and exhilarating; it was something between an adrenaline rush and a fever. Suddenly his body heated up as his blood pumped hard and fast, and his mind filtered out to a blank canvas.

The rest happened before thoughts had even entered Duo's mind. Noin shifted and attacked, and through her body language Duo immediately knew her exact movements. Faster than lightning he pulled the Oz officer close, broke her arm, and put a knife in her neck.

Wide-eyed and sputtering blood, she fell into the street with an unbelieving look lingering in her eyes as her life drained from her body. Noin reached up and touched her throat, feeling the sickeningly thick and warm blood. A faint metallic smell emerged and she knew her life was slipping away. As she lost consciousness, she wished she could have set things right with Zechs, and faintly had thoughts that if her child was a girl, she would have named her Aaralyn.

As Noin slipped away, Duo was still high on the kill. He didn't even notice the fight was over. For a moment he stood, waiting to find the next enemy to destroy - anyone would do. He was possessed.

He couldn't fully remember what had just happened. He closed his eyes, sensing the danger gone. All of his senses were focused on his own breathing. The sound was calming, but did nothing to dull the rush he'd felt moments earlier. The rush, the switch lingered; the residual heat slowly began to leave his body, and an odd noise brought him to open his eyes.

In front of him, just beyond the border of reality and lies, was Noin - sprawled out on the pavement, her body twitching after death. Though he had no doubts killing her was the right action, Duo thought he could distantly hear the sounds of the children from the Maxwell Church playing and laughing. He felt a darkness consume part of him, and the voices were silenced.

-------------------------------------------

That's it for now. Sorry it took FOREVER, I had a lot going on in my life. But school's out (for now) and within a week, you got a new chapter. Reviews would be great, it's been so long I'm not sure how many people still want me to finish this.


	12. The World Stopped

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

**Note:** Excuses just won't cover it this time, but I did manage to get another chapter up in less than six months – much better than a year! I hope that this will start the beginning of the end. I've got a month off school, so I damn well better get something written. I hope this was worth the wait.

**TO MY REVIEWERS:** You're all so wonderful I can't begin to thank you for the support. I've noticed a lot of you are no longer reviewing, and I hope that posting new chapters sooner (rather than forever apart) will get people involved again. Additionally, I've seen some reviews from first time readers, which is very exciting! If you like what I'm doing, I will finish. It's the least I can do for you.

**The Perfection of 02**

**By: Maxwell-Yuy**

The darkness in the room was overwhelming as it licked at his skin. It was deep and black, and part of it was comforting in the way it consumed him. Eating at his skin, crawling over his body, the darkness made him feel at home - until he heard the screams.

Awake with a start, he was upright in a flash with a knife drawn. Quickly scanning the room he took in a deep breath and relaxed some. He hated those dreams. Looking down to his hands, he froze. Blood. Images of the fight with Lieutenant Noin rushed back; but it was an image of a body on the street that made his heart skip a beat. Did he kill the Oz officer?

For the life of him, he couldn't remember the end of the fight or even how he got into a hotel room. It was happening again. His memory only failed him when dealing with certain moments in battle - usually the most intense, extreme life and death ones. The strangest thing was the loss of time. In Deathscythe he would be unable to recall some key turns in battle that lasted only a moment, but recall the rest. Occasionally he couldn't recall anything about the end of a battle, and the others would mention something about how well he fought. He usually played along, but this time no one was with him who witnessed his latest fight.

Trying figure things out, he stood up off the bed and shuffled into the bathroom. When he found the light switch he gasped. Blood splatter was streaked across his chest. What the hell happened out there? Instantly he looked around the room to double check that no one was inside. How did he get past the front desk with all that blood on his shirt? He couldn't remember, and panic began to set in. If someone saw him, the authorities would be called - he would get caught.

Turning on the water he splashed himself clean until the blood ran off his skin. He then removed his stained shirt to dress his wounds. Taking bandages from his duffle, he ignored the pain and secured his injuries well enough for travel.

Still, he was scared. These blackouts were never good, but this was worse than ever before. The more he tried to recall what happened, the more his head began to hurt. For a fleeting moment, he wished to be back on the streets with Solo to watch his back every step of the way; back when there were no blackouts. He shook off the thought.

Putting on the cleanest shirt he had, Duo took a good look at himself. He looked like hell. He wanted to be back at a safe house, with the gang, enjoying company he knew wouldn't kill him. But he couldn't see it in his mind.

He couldn't see what they were doing. He couldn't see the expressions of the other pilots. He couldn't hear their conversations, or remember the feeling of their presence. He squashed the thought - it wasn't important. Emotion was a weakness, right? He couldn't afford to be weak. Not now, when everyone else counted on him.

He stared harder at himself - seeing wrinkles and dark circles he knew normal kids his age would never have. Was he really that old? He didn't look it from a distance - not even in casual interaction; but it was clear to him that anyone with an eye for detail could see his wear and tear up close. He sighed and looked down towards the sink. He wasn't the person he saw. Or, he didn't want to be the person staring back in the mirror. Quiet reflections between times of strife, he thought, were either a beautiful or hurtful moment in time. Recently, since he'd left the safe house over a week ago, they were not only hurtful, but scary.

* * *

He was not accustomed to waiting. Zechs preferred to stand as an assistant informed Colonel Une of his arrival. If he was any less of a gentleman, he'd have walked through the double doors to her office and made the announcement himself. The reception he met so far was less than acceptable. Compound guards had the audacity to require him to state his name, rank, and serial number, and the instant recognition and respect his presence usually commanded was nowhere to be seen when at every checkpoint he was required to undergo a weapons check. Something had Oz spooked, and he needed to figure out what was the cause.

The doors opened and the assistant nodded, gesturing Zechs into the large round office. As he entered he saw Une peering at him from over her glasses. "Thank you for your swift compliance," she began as the doors closed and left them in private. "I trust your trip went well. Please, take a seat."

His eyes fractionally narrowed as he sat before her. "Aside from the delays caused by elevated security at headquarters, all went smoothly."

"Excellent." A slender finger guided her glasses from the tip of her nose back to their rightful place on the bridge.

Long ago Zechs learned that it was best not to pry at the Colonel for information. If it was important, she would volunteer intelligence accordingly. Still, he wondered what could have caused such a stir around the facility. In the past, the security display he witnessed today would be the result of a full-scale Gundam assault warning. But clearly, with four of the five pilots in custody, any Gundam threat would be minimal.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," she continued, "but we've just received some disturbing news. It appears pilot 02 has killed the Schbeiker girl. The man who came to us with information about 02's past and volunteered to kill him was allowed to live after their confrontation, but was left in a broken emotional state. He cannot accomplish his mission." She paused to straighten out papers on her desk. Zechs waited at attention.

"Our rebel pilot was last seen on foot in Berlin." Une looked pointedly at Zechs with a knowing gaze. "Our base in Germany has reported an Oz death - a full report will be submitted soon to determine if the Gundam pilot was behind the killing. The young pilot is taking great measures to stay underground. From what our intelligence has gathered, it appears that you became his sole target after Princess Relena named you as the captor of the other pilots. Given the circumstances, a high alert has been issued, and you are to stay in a guarded compound at all times."

A ghost of anger flared in the blonde man's eyes. "I assure you that I am capable of taking care of myself, Colonel."

"This was an order given directly by Mr. Khushrenada. He wants to use the situation to his advantage. You are to report to Madrid immediately."

If Treize gave the order personally, Zechs reasoned that it must be vital to his plan. "I will leave at once. Good day, Colonel."

As Une nodded, Zechs turned on his heels and started out towards the hangers. When he initially agreed to the plan, he hadn't suspected that he would become one of the key elements in triggering the Maxwell boy. But things were not black and white. While Maxwell could follow the path Treize predicted, he could also become uncontrollable.

Zechs thought it foolish of the Oz leader to simply hold the other Gundam pilots until his plans for 02 had ripened and progressed to their revealing. If he were in charge, the others would be interrogated and, though he wasn't fond of the tactic, executed. In a way it was a shame Treize needed them alive and unbroken. But the payoff for 02 was far greater than the loss they would face if the pilots were to escape.

At first he had his doubts. He'd seen firsthand the strength of his enemies, and the idea that Treize was going to turn the Deathcythe pilot into his secret weapon for winning the war was preposterous. Treize, however, was convinced that the braided pilot was far more deadly than anyone had suspected. To prove this, he hatched a complicated plan – which in Zech's opinion was slowing down the war. Treize ordered that his mobile suits specifically attack Deathscythe in massive numbers during heated sequences of battle. He wanted to test the theory he'd based on Doctor G's comments. If 02 thought all of the Gundam pilots would surly die, then he would transform into a killing machine so efficient that even a supercomputer couldn't calculate his precise movements as quickly as he implemented them. And, if 02 were pushed far enough, enemy and ally would melt into one in his head.

Breaking from his thoughts, Zechs found himself nearing the hanger bay. As he walked through the open doorway a young officer approached him and gestured towards a jet that was ready for boarding, its engine warming up to taxi to the runway.

"The Colonel called and had us prep a private jet for you, Sir."

He nodded, crossed the hanger towards the jet, and climbed the stairs to the main cabin. Entering the cockpit, he called to the tower to check the weather and performed standard pre-flight checks. Although he was confident in the ground crew, he liked to run the checks himself. With everything in order, he gave a little throttle and guided the jet to the clear runway. Lining up the jet, he pushed the throttle full open, checked air speed, listened to the engine, and when the time was right, pulled the jet into the air. It had been a long time since he'd flown one of these instead of a mobile suit, but it was clear that Une wanted him to attract as little attention as possible.

Once the jet fully ascended, he turned on the autopilot system, leaned back in the captain's chair, and closed his eyes. Out of habit, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his private line. When voicemail kicked in, he hit the star sign and entered his password. He wasn't surprised to have a new message, nor was he surprised when a familiar female voice began to speak.

"Zechs? It's me." Noin never needed to use her name. He knew her voice – even when it was strained like in this message. He knew he was the cause of her anxiety. "I didn't want to do this over the phone. I had been hoping to tell you in person, at dinner tonight, but…"

When her voice faded Zechs could clearly hear her pain. He felt terrible for leaving her so abruptly after asking to take a step back and go slower with their relationship. It wasn't that he didn't love her, just that the war was about to kick into a higher gear and he needed to focus his attention on the fight. He'd have to make amends for his error and clarify what he meant with her. The recording continued. "I needed to make sure I knew for sure, you know? I couldn't jump to conclusions, especially with you concerned."

His brow furrowed. What did she mean by 'especially with you concerned?' He didn't get a chance to speculate. Her voice quickly broke his thoughts, now shaky and hesitant. "It's just… shit. I'm rambling, aren't I? I'm standing under a monument, I'm shaken to the core, I'm rambling, ME, rambling, and I'm pregnant."

The world stopped.

"You're a daddy, baby. Congratulations and I hope you enjoy our 'apart time,' as you so eloquently put it." The message abruptly stopped, too. There was a silence that lasted hours in his head.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when a mechanical voice asking him to save, delete, or replay the message jarred him out of his thoughts. He became enraged with the voice upon hearing the "delete" option, and fumbled to choose to replay. And he listened again. And again. And again.

He was going to be a father.

It was only when his face began to hurt that he realized he was grinning uncontrollably like a mad man. He was going to be a father! Suddenly a low rumble began his chest, simultaneously working its way up his throat, into his shoulders, and into his stomach until he was laughing hysterically. He was going to be a father. Never in his life had he experienced such joy – a happiness that was bursting out from his heart and shaking his very soul. Zechs Merquise was going to be a father.

A rush of adrenaline and endorphins sent him on a high greater than any he'd experienced in battle. He would call Noin and clear up everything. She'd forgive him the instant she heard his voice, for he was sure that nothing could keep his euphoria from coming through on the phone. Then he'd make arrangements to pull her off duty. Nothing was going to come between him and fatherhood – not even war. While he couldn't escape his own duties, he'd keep a lower profile and refrain from combat when possible. He knew Treize would grant him any request in the matter.

He was going to be a father!

Never would he have guessed this kind of news would change him so much. He'd always thought that children were burdens, but this was a chance to get something right. It was a clean slate he could bring to a world of tainted souls. And he'd marry Noin. It wasn't something he'd considered before, but he did love her and he wanted a strong family for his son. He was sure he'd have a son. He'd teach him to pilot, to be a gentlemen, and to be honorable.

When the phone in the cockpit rang, he was sure it would be Noin. Immediately picked up the receiver, trying to keep his happiness from fully reaching his voice until after their introductions. "Lucrezia?"

Une's sharp voice ripped through him like a knife. "Leutenant Noin is dead. She was the Oz officer killed in Berlin by 02, stabbed multiple times and left on the street. I'm sending you the report now."

The connection died.

And so did something inside Zechs.

* * *

Please, please, please review. It would make my struggle to finish this in two days worthwhile. That's right, after six months of having four paragraphs done, I scrambled and finished the rest in two days! I felt that more needed to be posted. 


	13. Whispers

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

**Note:** My computer died and I lost everything on it - including what I'd written for this chapter, and all of my other projects and work that I'd neglected to back up. Ironic for someone who works in Tech Support to forgot to back things up, ne? But that's my fault, and what's done is done. Besides, I like where this "new" chapter 13 is going better than the last one.

Most of this was written very quickly (in one sitting), and I hope that means the next chapter can come within the next month or two as well.

**TO MY READERS:** I've done you a disservice, and for that I apologize. I'll do what I can to win back your favour. I don't enjoy stringing you along! I didn't mean to upload this chapter and take it down minutes later, as Hellcat81 graciously pointed out (thanks!). I wrote the beginning, and what was originally going to be the end of the chapter. So I uploaded it. Silly me, I didn't write the middle!

I extend a big thanks to everyone who has stuck through this process. This one's for you.

**Title: The Perfection of 02**

**By: Maxwell-Yuy**

He ran as fast as he could ever remember - as fast as the time Solo caught him hoarding food shortly after he'd first been admitted into the gang, and as fast as the time Heero didn't take kindly to the prank he'd pulled convincing him a virus had deleted his hard drive.

His breath was labored as he pulled forward with all his strength as he ran into the night to forget what he'd left behind. When he'd awakened from his blackout he knew it would have taken a miracle to get back to his room without being seen - and he was right.

As he packed his things he realized the duffle bag he'd retrieved from the floor had been in the closet earlier. He didn't remember moving anything. When he carefully opened the closet door, in place of his duffle bag was the hotel clerk. He barely recognized the man through all the blood.

Something was wrong with him. It was like some repressed, psychotic version of himself was being let loose to destroy everything in his path. Maybe everything was his fault and he'd been denying it. Maybe he was responsible for all the death in his life. Maybe he was...

No.

He wasn't Death. He didn't believe in such things. There was no "other world" and no magical or spiritual anything. There was only now. And with things as bad as they were, it terrified him. But the feeling stayed locked in his gut as his body kept running through the streets. And his brain kept processing dangerous thoughts. And his heart... it felt empty.

Without his comrades, he was going crazy. Something in him knew it, but the middle of a war was not the time to realize he relied on others for his sanity. All the other times the faint whisper in his head had murmured sweet words of friendship and family and belonging to him, he'd strangle it down. But this time a crack formed in his defenses.

The whisper grew louder and morphed into a low voice. It told him things he didn't want to hear.

His subconscious was feeding his doubts and fostering a panic in him that was not unlike the one he grappled with after the church burned. And after Solo died. And when Heero self-destructed. And when he was left alone in the world again, and again, and again.

It wasn't that he was crazy. He wasn't a murderer – he did what was necessary to survive and win the war. It was all to bring peace to the Earth Sphere.

War in the name of peace.

Killing in the name of peace.

Murder in the name of peace.

It all blended into some arbitrary mess, and he didn't care where the lines of definition and decency were drawn. What he cared about was finding the other gundam pilots.

While Duo was an independent spirit, he thrived off interaction with others. Being alone drove him mad. He needed contact, conversation, or the presence of an ally or friend. Without it there was silence. And in that silence there were thoughts that ripped open old wounds that should have been left to heal.

He needed someone to talk at, or talk to, or pester, or connect with. His happiness, both real and fake, relied on it more than anything else. He knew there was a darker side to his personality, but he knew that the lighter side was just as legitimate, if not more. He liked who he was when he was happy, annoyed, angry, indifferent… anything other than dark.

The duffle bag that he'd so carelessly slung across his chest before bolting from his room was starting to weigh him down. Since his encounter with Hilde, he hadn't stopped to rest properly, and it was beginning to affect his performance. Normally he could run miles with the weight of his duffle and not feel the least bit tired.

As he ran further, struggling to keep his pace, he thought of Professor G. The old Mad Doctor had once asked him if his darker side was born from repressed emotions. He was concerned that his young pupil was in denial of the pain he'd suffered, and was conjuring up two personalities. But Duo knew better. The Doctor wasn't in his head. The old man didn't know what truths were stored in the recesses of a street rat's mind.

Denial was for people trying to escape something. But he wasn't escaping - he was moving on without dwelling on things that couldn't be changed.

Years on the street had taught him that some things just didn't change. Not even people. And life wasn't worth spending on grieving, or working out "what if" scenarios. There were some things that just had to be accepted for their face value. And one of them was his dark side.

That didn't make him crazy. That made him more rational than everyone else. Didn't it? He sometimes had his doubts.

Out of breath, he came to an abrupt halt after crashing into an old brick building, hands reaching out to grasp the cold clay for support as he wretched over the sidewalk. After nearly choking while heaving out the measly content in his stomach, he spat on the ground and reached one hand up to his face to rub his eyes. This all had to end. It had to end now.

Lost in his personal torment, he almost missed the vibration in his pocket. When he did feel it, he stood without his wits for a moment until he literally shook sense into himself. He put on the mask he always wore to hide. He just ran, and he was about to hide. Two down, three to go?

But this time, when the mask went up, he could feel a crack marring his composure.

He pulled out his cell phone.

"Yes?" His voice was harsh and had a slightly raspy quality.

"Duo, it's Howard. We found them. They're being held in Madrid, I'll text you the exact location."

The world stopped. Then he remembered to breathe.

"Affirmative."

"Are you okay, kid?" Howard wasn't bothering to hide his concern.

Duo cleared his throat before managing a "yes."

The old man's frown was almost audible over the phone. "I thought you didn't lie."

"I don't," came the reply after a moment. "I'm not dead, so I'm fine." That was a stretch, but it wasn't completely false.

Before the old man could say more, Duo hung up. His insides stirred. The end was at hand. He would book passage to Spain. He would get his sanity back.

Chuckling darkly, he turned to make his way towards a metro station. Zechs was in reach. Finally. He just needed patience.

"And I will execute great vengeance upon thee with furious rebukes," he whispered coarsely into the night. "And they shall know that I am Death, when I lay my vengeance upon them."

------------

A soft and pained whisper accompanied by labored breathing woke Trowa from his light sleep. He kept his eyes shut and waited to hear it again - there were some people who didn't need to know he was awake. But when the sound was issued again, he recognized the voice behind the faint words. He opened his eyes.

"Wake up," he whispered back to the Sandrock pilot. When the whispering continued he tried again, louder. "Wake up! What's wrong?"

Quatre jerked and gasped. He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts, focusing on breathing slowly and heavily. "It's Duo," he began.

Two voices immediately entered the conversation. "What about him?"

Quatre was so deeply shaken he didn't even notice the Wing and Shenlong pilots had asked the same question simultaneously. He swallowed hard before continuing at his own pace. "Something happened. Something horrible happened." He moved to grasp at his chest, over his heart, but his restraints prevented him.

The room hung with a silence that asked the big question on three pilot's minds. The gravity of the situation so immense that only one of them had the capacity to ask what weighed on the others. "Is he dead?"

Mixed feelings arose in Quatre, and he wasn't quite sure how to explain himself. "Not physically. But something's changed. Something is eating him away. Something unfixable broke inside of him." His voice was getting desperate. "I can barely tell who he is anymore! And it's gone –the feeling is gone. I can't feel him. I couldn't before - he was too far away. But there was this burst, this break, and now..." He sighed. "It was a white hot flash of destruction on the horizon, with Duo as the origin. And even in the distance it felt terrifying. It was like the Zero System."

For Quatre to mention the Zero System was nearly incomprehensible. After his experience with it, the young man refused to utter its name. His last words hung in the air and rang in the ears of his fellow prisoners of war.

It had been a long time since Wu-Fei had felt the kind of pain Quatre's words brought to him. Self-loathing filtered into his blood and dispersed through his body. Again, the thought of never having told Duo that he was family ripped at his heart.

Sure, he'd welcomed him to the Dragon Clan, but he didn't tell Duo that with him in his life, he felt like he had a brother. And brothers protect each other. He should be with Duo to help him with whatever he was going through – not be stuck as a prisoner waiting for the American to bail him out. Somehow he knew it wasn't going to be that simple. It never was.

He was sure Treize had plans for the last gundam pilot. And something he couldn't quite place told him that Duo was in grave danger if he stepped foot in their holding facility.

Lowering his head, he whispered an inaudible prayer to Nataku to keep his brother in arms safe, so he could one day tell him how much he meant.

As the silence in the room progressed, Trowa felt a silence within himself. He didn't know what to think about Quatre's revelation. A horrible feeling came over him when he realized that the reason he couldn't pinpoint any emotion was that he didn't have any particular one. He'd expected something like this. Not the capture of most of their team, and not his lack of emotional response - but the breakdown of their cheerful companion.

Trowa knew a thing or two about masking emotions, and he'd seen Duo's smiles falter. He'd seen signs of the braided boy's pain. But he knew there was nothing he could have done to help. A mental breakdown was inevitable for the pilot who pushed away his torment and worked ceaselessly to bring a sense of normalcy and camaraderie to the five of them.

He knew what Duo needed. He needed the security of a world where he didn't have to fight a full-scale war every day. He needed to wake up in the morning without wondering which of them would die before the day was out. He needed to know he wouldn't be forgotten.

If there was one thing Trowa knew better than hiding feelings, it was the fears that came with anonymity. He and Duo shared in their lack of real identity, but Trowa had Catherine and the Circus. And he had his wonderful Quatre. Duo had the unspoken, un-acted upon relationship with Heero. The few times he'd tried to give his friend a little part of that peace he longed for, and tell Duo that Heero was just as lost and in love as he was, the lively pilot had shut him out. He'd change the subject, walk away… do whatever it took to stop Trowa before he said his piece.

Once, when they were on a mission together, he and Duo camped out in the mountains. The weather was fair, and they spent a good part of the night on their backs, gazing at the sky and slowly, bit by bit, talking. It wasn't so much of a conversation as it was a drawn out discussion on life, death, war, and peace. That was the night he learned of Duo's attraction to Heero.

When the other pilot whispered to him, asking if he thought Heero and the others were looking at the same night sky, his voice was filled with longing and sadness at the Wing pilot's name that it opened Trowa's eyes. He realized something that should have been clear months before, through the small, intimate gestures his friends exchanged.

He missed that night. It was the first time he felt he could understand the braided pilot. He silently hoped for other nights like that in the future.

For Heero, Quatre's words were a knife in his heart. Reflexively, he turned to his training and cleared his thoughts. But it wasn't working for long. His thoughts invariably strayed towards Duo, and if that was the case he was going to work it to his tactical advantage. He began analyzing Duo's performance on the field, and running those skills against everything he could imagine about Oz's security at his detention center.

But the odds of Duo assisting in an escape were slim. Even with his exceptional stealth and combat talents, Duo would be in for the fight of his life. And if he was already injured…

Heero took a deep breath. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't used to being helpless. For a moment, he tried to imagine what Duo would tell him to do – but he was having a hard time hearing the words. Duo's voice was but a whisper, carried away from him and sent to a far off place by a chilling wind.

He never thought a few weeks in silence could change him so much.

------------------------------

Worth it? About 60 percent of that burst out of me all at once in a two hour long writing fit. I kind of had to look up that slightly altered biblical verse that Duo mutters. Ezekiel 25:17, the King James bible. I love the internet. As always, please tell me what you think.


	14. Something New

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

**Note:** Sorry I didn't write. Three of my friends died on the same day, so I wasn't in the mood for writing about insanity and violence. I think writing and finishing this chapter is a big step for me in the right direction.

**TO MY READERS:** You're all amazing. For anyone who has stuck through and read this along the way: thanks a million. I never imagined anyone would follow my work so closely, or over such a freakin' long period of time.

**Title: The Perfection of 02**

**By: Maxwell-Yuy**

**  
**

"She was pregnant."

Treise glanced up from the report he was reading, a slight curiosity playing at his features. "Hello, Zechs."

The blonde man stood with an air of intensity and anger, staring down his friend and commander. He was clearly unhappy with the other's response, and his next words were spat out with a bitterness Treise had never heard before. "She was _pregnant_. I would have been a _father_, and now I'm _nothing_."

Setting down the papers in his hand, Treise slowly reached for a cup of tea his secretary had left on his desk. Lifting it to his lips he took a slow sip and maintained his proper posture. "It's unfortunate that Lieutenant Noin gave her life for the cause. I know she meant a lot to you, but there's nothing you can do to help her now."

Zechs couldn't believe his ears. "Is it that simple to you? Is everyone just a pawn in this war? I _loved_ her. She was my future."

"And now she isn't. That's the way life goes sometimes. You have to face it and move on because if you don't keep going you'll never get opportunities." Treise put down his cup and continued with an air of virtue. "Pilot 02 killed the woman you love and naturally you are upset. But you're even more upset with yourself for not appreciating her. She died without knowing how much you cared. She was a rose, and you neglected your garden. You can't live like that. But you can live knowing you've evened the score. You can live once you've had your revenge."

Eyes narrowing, Zechs glared at the man before him. He was no longer certain what to think of the Oz leader. "What do you mean?"

"Pilot 02 should be arriving here shortly. I set the bait. Perhaps you can reel him in?"

>> >>

It was only the third time Sally had ever met Howard in person. They'd been in sporadic contact via email and phone calls but it wasn't often their paths crossed in the tangible world. This time was different from the others. Part of her felt like she was betraying a friend. The rest of her knew that the meeting with Howard was not only critical in swaying the outcome of the war, but it was the only way they could save the captured Gundam pilots. Saving Duo, however, was an entirely different story.

Three minutes past their rendezvous time she saw the old man coming up fast in a jeep. Somehow it seemed fitting of him. Knowing it was in everyone's best interests if their conversation was private, she waited for him to come to a stop and climbed into the vehicle with him. Taking off immediately, they drove for several minutes before he began to talk.

"I've seen the Kid halfway lose his mind, and let me tell you, you don't want to be there when he snaps." Laying his forearms on the wheel casually and leaning forward to peer into the sky above, Howard allowed the lull of the road to let his words sink in.

"I got a tip from Doc G. to – "

"You mean Professor G.?"

Howard gave a crooked grin. "The man's got a doctorate in Engineering, does he not?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Like I was saying, I got a tip from Doc G. to keep an eye out on the Kid and look for any signs of disturbance. Now I'm not sayin' the Kid is _disturbed_, but I am sayin' that the old man was concerned about some behavioral patters he'd observed." Howard leaned back into the driver's seat. Sally was looking at him, but he ignored the feel of her gaze and focused on the road ahead.

"The others: they all had proper training. Yuy was practically bred for this war. Barton was raised with mercenaries and learned the life of a soldier years ago. Chang was raised in a warrior clan and that Winner kid was sent to academies for this kind of thing. Not only that, but they were all part of an organized technical training program before this "Operation Meteor" shit hit the fan. They knew what was coming, and they were carefully selected to be Gundam pilots. Tested, trained, and ready to go.

But Duo was never _supposed_ to be involved in all of this. Doc G. spent all of his time on the machinery, not the user end. He had one test pilot who seemed promising, and that guy died in a routine training exercise three months before Operation Meteor. And not a week passed between his death and when the Kid just waltzed right into his place.

I may be one of those 'geniuses' who designed the Tallgeese and Peacemillion, but I'll never understand how an orphan from the streets of L2 managed to stow away on a Sweepers ship _and_ hack into its security. I doubt the Kid had ever seen a complex computer before, but he managed. It's like he was hardwired from birth to simply exist on a level above everyone else. As soon as he was caught by the old man's security, he was offered the job – to become the pilot of Deathscythe. The Kid took it without hesitation."

Howard turned the vehicle down a winding side road. "I'd have done the same thing if I was in G's place – any kid who could hack my security deserved a job. But being a Gundam pilot is more than computer skills. And that Kid had everything it took. I heard that after 10 minutes in the cockpit of Deathscythe's simulator, the Kid was doing maneuvers that his predecessor never dreamed of. It was natural to him – like breathing.

"His hand-to-hand combat skills were as impressive as the toughest of street kids, and a little refinery went a long way. As far as tactics, he'd apparently been employing them from a young age. While street kids stick to simple procedures for stealing everyday stuff, they will set up some pretty complex operations when it's necessary."

He paused for a brief moment. "Did you know he's fluent in five languages?"

Sally's head snapped back towards Howard from where it had drifted back to the road. "No. I wasn't aware."

"And those five are just the ones I've heard myself. When I asked how many he knew, he just grinned at me and evaded the question."

"How did a kid from the streets with no formal education learn all of that?"

Howard shook his head. "He said he just picked it up from people. L2 has got a good deal of poor people who don't speak any of the basic languages. But even then, just picking up a language without schooling or a teacher isn't common."

Sally had a feeling she was about to state the obvious. "So Duo is a prodigy."

Howard grunted. "Sort of, yes. Many prodigies excel in a single field, but Duo excels in almost everything. Some his skills are learned or byproducts of his environment. His stealth and hand-to-hand combat skills are likely directly linked to street survival. But his other skills aren't so easily explained."

Sally frowned. "So dumb luck caused a child prodigy, perfect for Operation Meteor, to fall into the hands of one of those crazy scientists? I don't buy that. 'Coincidence' is just a word people use when they don't want to admit the truth."

Smiling at the woman in the passenger seat, Howard grinned. "I love it when I'm speaking to scientists." As Sally chuckled, he pressed on. "I also thought it was too good to be true. And what I uncovered…" He shook his head. "Sally, you're never going to believe this…"

>> >>

Madrid. A name he'd used before, but never like this. It was like trying it on for the first time. The way it rolled off his tongue. The way his lips came together. How his tongue touched behind his teeth. The deadly hint in his voice and he said the name over and over again.

Part of him was whispering that he was going mad. The other part was screaming to find the other pilots and win the war and crush everyone in Oz. They should destroy everyone in Oz until the Gundam pilots were the only ones left standing.

But there was something he had to do that was bothering him. He out of place – like he forgot something very important. It didn't make sense. He always checked his duffle before moving locations, and the coordinates of the holding facility were firmly memorized as well as safely stored in the computer in his pocket. So what was the problem?

It bothered him to no end that he was drawing such a big blank. He'd checked the building plans. He memorized the blueprints. If he knew the mission in and out, there couldn't be anything else. Could there?

To add to the strange void he was feeling he was also painfully aware of the fact that he was taking public transportation. Traveling incognito meant hiding in plain sight. It also meant traveling much more slowly than he would have preferred. By this point, a few hours wouldn't make much difference with the rescue mission. But it didn't mean he had to like the wait.

Part of him wanted to break into the cabin of the commuter plane, slash the pilot's throat, and really get the little jet engine going. Rationality told him that causing a scene would only bring unwanted attention and alert Oz to his whereabouts.

The flight gave him time to think and to plan. But when repeating his plans in his head proved to be tedious, one thought rose above all the others: what was wrong with him? He ruled out the possibility that he was crazy. He chuckled at his earlier worry. Of course he was sane. He was super-sane. He was the poster child for level-headedness. No crazy person would put so much time into the rationalization of his own thoughts. Every violent urge was met with equally potent reason. He held sanity tightly in his hands, ignoring the desperation of his thoughts.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes and briefly fell asleep. He saw Solo's tussled hair that was always so dirty he could never tell if it was a pure blonde or light brown. From underneath that hair came green eyes that would fool anyone into thinking they were black. Duo had studied them up close for long enough to know the truth. The crooked grin. The… frown. Eyebrows drew closer to those deviant green eyes as the boy's brow furrowed.

Like so many times before his lips parted without a sound like he was trying to remember what it was he wanted to say. They lingered apart the same way they lingered when he died. It was then that the intermittent dreams of Solo began. Duo spent many days and nights wondering what those last words were supposed to be.

He knew he could easily make up something for Solo to say. Since he was around the age of seven he'd been a lucid dreamer, and from time to time he would change things he didn't like while in a dream state. Until someone told him otherwise, he thought it was a common occurrence.

His sleep patterns had never been like the average person. Before lucid dreaming, he suffered from Night Terrors that caused him to scream in his sleep and severely beat anyone and anything that came near him. He'd never mentioned them to anyone outside of Solo, and any witnesses were long gone – either killed by the harshness of street life on L2 or escaped to another colony by dubious means. All he could remember of those nights was abject terror, and the bizarre sensation that came with the physicality of the situation. There are few things in the world that feel as much like an out of body experience as sleep-fighting, especially when you recall the events from a third party view and remember an inability to control yourself.

But when the terrors stopped, the lucidity began. It was wonderful. There was rarely a specific moment in which he knew he was dreaming and that he had potential control, but he was always consciously aware that he was subconsciously in a fake reality where he had the potential to be a god.

Usually he just enjoyed the ride. Most of his dreams were wonderful – filled with friendships he knew he'd never have, love he thought didn't exist, and the life of a Gundam pilot without the fear of death or the doubts about morality. That was one of the dream themes he liked the most – briefly living his own life like it was a summer action flick, knowing that he was the protagonist who would survive all the unlikely scenarios and live to tell the tale while bringing unquestionable justice to a cheering public.

But the dream with Solo was a haunting mystery. And as much as it would make his life simpler to just gain control, he couldn't alter its course. He was trapped, suspended over the situation, watching himself be completely helpless, knowing it was a dream but not being able to change anything.

Those lips parted again without sound. It was almost a ritual now. And yet every time he saw the other boy he couldn't tear his eyes away. Solo was the first person he ever had a connection with, and death had proven incapable of destroying their bond.

Like many times before, Solo began to say something. His lips were moving silently and refrained from forming any decipherable patterns so that even a lip reader would gain nothing from the interaction. The silence was unbearable. Suddenly, with a Herculean effort he managed the impossible and ripped his body from its stance to turn away from the vision of the dead boy in front of him. The pain that single action caused shook Duo to the core.

"Duuuuo."

He froze. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Surely he didn't hear –

"Duo."

There it was again. Stronger and clearer. A voice he hadn't heard in…

"Duo!"

He whipped around to see Solo staring at him with a purpose. The green-eyed boy cocked his head to the side and repeated himself. This was new. This was definitely new.

------------------------------

Hello, glorious readers. This is where you get to play a part in the story and tell me which direction YOU would like me to go with Duo's past. I'm a little tired of doing it all on my own, and good ol' Howard is just waiting for your votes! Here's the choices:

Conspiracy and cover-up involving G, and others in Duo's life

Duo really is a prodigy, his past is exposed

Duo is a defunct soldier from another entity, his whole past is a lie

None of the above (scenario that if summarized gives it all away)


	15. Unraveling at the Seams

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing, or the characters within it.

**Note:** I did this one as quickly as I could, without actually working too hard for it to come out. Then **I thought it should be longer**, but I couldn't stretch it out and **people got mad** so I figure: post it as is.

Also, to clarify: my question posed to my readers was not going to be the final decision in the development of Duo – it was my guide. I've had this story worked out all along. I just needed a few details clarified by my readers.

**TO MY SUBLIMINAL READERS:** I realized that many of you don't actually review, and you deserve your shout out! So this chapter is for all of my readers who just don't care enough to leave me feedback. You're important, too. Power to the silent reader!

**Title: The Perfection of 02**

**By: Maxwell-Yuy**

Even without a space heart Heero could tell that something big was about to go down. For the first time that he could readily recall he was worried. Duo was going to die. It was clear as day from inside the compound that there was simply no way to successfully navigate both in and out – and the last thing he would want was for Duo to die for _him_.

Even worse, he couldn't shake off Quatre's reaction. The blonde had been uneasy for two hours. All of the captive pilots knew that the Arabian had spent time searching with his space heart for Duo, and now that he found the braided pilot the horror that filled him was making him ill. Even worse, he couldn't let go of his connection to Duo. It was as though the terror held him down and forced him to experience Duo's emptiness and pain without pause or room to breathe. The fact that whatever it was he felt in Duo was making him physically sick… that was a cause for extreme alarm.

Trowa was worried for his boyfriend and for the rescue mission they all knew was happening. The tension was unbearable. Quatre was a wreck, sweating and shutting his eyes in a way that suggested he was trying not to see something devastating happening in front of him. Heero was simultaneously shut down and on high alert, the anticipation and apprehension radiating from his figure. And Wu-Fei had never seemed so cold and distant.

He knew that silence and stillness was part of the Chinese pilot's meditation – his way of coping in a situation where he was waiting for an outcome but could have no active part in its delivery. But his behavior was nevertheless unnerving. He almost didn't want to be there to witness the event that would trigger Wu-Fei into action.

It was clear that everyone was scared. They were anxious to be freed from their holding cell while simultaneously terrified that the Gundam pilot about to show up to free them wasn't really their friend at all.

One thought found its way into all of their minds, weaving a path from pilot to pilot until it consumed them all: something big was happening. And they were afraid it was entirely out of their control.

* * *

"You're not real."

There was something about that assertion that amused Solo to no end, and it was written clear as day on his face. "If I'm not real, then neither are you."

Duo was both puzzled and annoyed. "But you're dead. I'm not."

"Are you sure about that?"

A grave paused settled over the Gundam pilot. He knew he wasn't dead, right? Right. Solo was just messing with him like always. The older boy always enjoyed getting a reaction out of his "first lieutenant." But with his death, Solo had been frozen in time, and Duo now matched him in age and height.

"This is my reality, Solo. I made it. You are here because I created you in this space. But you're really dead. You're a figment of my imagination, and I am a projection of myself into my own dreaming subconscious." It sounded like a solid enough explanation, so Duo stopped explaining and waited for Solo to agree.

"You're an idiot"

Duo frowned. That wasn't the response he was waiting for.

"Come on. You know why I'm here, Spooks."

Spooks. The name sounded alien to his ears. For Duo, that name was from a lifetime ago. Before adopting his current name, there had been discussion within Solo's gang about what to name the newcomer. The kids quickly started calling him Spooks. Officially it was because of his stealthy nature and the way he'd always sneak up on people, scaring the crap out of them. Unofficially it was because the new kid was creeping them out like nothing else ever had, and thereby was insanely spooky.

Still, Duo couldn't believe he already knew the answer. If he did, he wouldn't be arguing with his subconscious, would he? Finding out the truth from his dead friend suddenly became more important than practicing self-psychology.

"No, I don't. I have no idea why you're here. So _**why**_, Solo?"

The apparition began to slowly and casually walk around Duo. As he passed behind the gundam pilot he smirked. "Because of that braid," he said as he gestured to the familiar chestnut rope running down Duo's back.

Spinning to look his childhood friend in the face, the violet-eyed boy reflexively grabbed hold of the tail end of his hair in a defensive move. He was angry, and it was evident in his voice. "What about it?"

"It's not very YOU, is it?"

Panic immediately spread through Duo as he suddenly recoiled. When he spoke he couldn't keep the fear from his voice, and he couldn't help but speak a little too loudly. "It _**is**_ me! You don't know what you're talking about!"

The mischievous glint in Solo's eyes switched over to a cold stare and the smile playing at his lips lost its mirth. "You spent so much time running from who you were that you never came to terms with it all. You may legitimately be a new person, but you can't ignore your old self."

Duo was positively seething. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Solo gave him the smug look he used to get when he'd scammed a businessman out of a few bucks. "Just because you don't remember doesn't mean it wasn't real."

Looking at the other boy with scrutiny, Duo pursed his lips. Something was wrong, and it wasn't just that he was seeing the dead. "Your accent," he began with a hint of bewilderment, "it's gone. Where's the L2 slang you always used?"

"And where's yours?"

Duo froze. "What?"

Solo spoke slowly and smoothly. "I said: Where. Is. Yours?"

He waited for a response as Duo stood there with a blank and bewildered look on his face. His eyes showed that the gears in his head were turning, but his face showed no answers or recognition.

At the end of a long pause, Duo slowly answered. "It's gone because… because I adapted my speech once I left L2. To fit in better."

"Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?"

Before he could respond, Duo jolted awake.

* * *

He didn't know what to do with himself. Some part of him whispered that he should be preparing for the inevitable, but the rest of him was frozen by regret and anxiety. His chance was coming. He could destroy the person who destroyed his future. But somehow that didn't fill his emptiness.

Caught in a mix of emotions he hardly registered which hallways he stormed through or which doors he pushed his way past. He was angry. Overwhelmingly angry. And maybe Treize was right – maybe the best way to survive would be to direct his rage towards a goal.

But now wasn't the time for thoughts. It wasn't a time for reflection or philosophy. It was a time to lose all direction and fall into a haze of passionate discord. Blood would soon be shed, and Pilot 02 would suffer. He would take on the Rebel pilot in the most distinctly admirable fashion he knew to honor the family he lost – an old fashioned, formal duel.

* * *

Sally was dead silent. She didn't know what to say, and Howard wasn't supplying her with more information until she reacted. "So… Duo isn't an L2 street kid?"

The old man frowned. "Not exactly. Most of the kids there were born, raised, and abandoned on the street. Duo was, shall we say, an import. Have you read about the failed L2 revival some 10 years ago?"

Sally nodded. It was standard to go over the L2 experiment in medical school. It was a case with everything from cutting edge science to ethical dilemmas. "I've read about it, yes. We discussed it once at an ethics seminar."

"So you know all about the background stuff – but schools and seminars don't discuss the classified details. It was set up to look like an entrepreneurial deal. The biggest social reform in colonial history – two big companies coming together to bring jobs, hospitals, and technology to a dying colony. They did manage to come though on some of what they promised. They attracted brilliant researchers and built large facilities to help the homeless and poor. And that's where Duo comes into play."

"So he was one of the poor people they helped?"

"No. He was the son of two of the engineers on the project. His parents didn't realize that behind the façade of social reform the project was running unsanctioned and inhumane experiments on some of the patients. They were testing new medications and trying to completely decode human genetics. When his parents found out about the illegal experimentation and decided to leave the project, they were killed. And Duo was left in the hands of those… monsters in charge."

Sally couldn't help herself – she just had to interrupt. "But how do you know all of this?"

Sad, old eyes turned to look at her. "Because nothing goes down on L2 in the name of science without Doc. G. knowing."

"So he knew all along?"

"Sally, there are a million things that old kook knows that no one else does. But I can tell you one thing – he did his best by Duo." Howard suddenly looked troubled. "When everything was going down that kid was just an afterthought. And when they crossed paths again the old man did what he had to do for everyone in the Earth Sphere to survive, including Duo."

"But to keep his identity a secret – "

Sally shrank a little when the old engineer turned to her with an angry look. "That's not who Duo is anymore. It's completely irrelevant information that would only serve to cause him pain. It's best to let sleeping dogs lie."

A loud beep startled Sally and caused Howard to reach for his pocket. Pulling out a small device he smiled. "Good. We're ready to roll."

Sally looked confused. Howard smiled again.

"Sally," he said putting the communication device back into his pocket. "We're going to Spain."

* * *

What the fuck was _that_?

Nearly shaking in his seat, Duo grasped onto the arm rests of his chair. Eyes widening, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. This was new. Solo never spoke – not once in all the years since his death. It was an unspoken rule _because he never spoke_. So what was different now?

It was a stupid question, and Duo knew it. He could pinpoint exactly what the change was – he was unraveling at the seams. Never in his life had he been so confused, so edgy, so angry. He was trapped under a waterfall of emotion and there was no way to slow down the rush.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Again, sorry it's so short. Let me know what you think (or don't!).


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